LIBRARY 


If 

FRIENDS 


The  gift  of  James  R. 
and  Helen  E.  Davies 
in  memory  of  Attorney 
and  Mrs.  Joseph  L.  Shaw 

University  of  Illinois^^X# 
at  Urbana-Champaign 

BOOKSTACKS 


' 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD,  / 


JEDEDIAH  CLEISHBOTHAM, 
SCHOOLMASTER  AND  PARISH-CLERK  OF  GANDERCLEUGH 
THIRD  SERIES— COMPLETE  IN  TWO  VOLUMES, 


Hear,  Land  o’  Cakes  and  brither  Scots, 

Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Jonny  Groats’, 

If  there’s  a hole  in  a’  your  coats, 

I rede  ye  tent  it, 

A chiel’s  amang  you  takin’  notes, 

An‘  faith  he’ll  prent  it. 

Burns . 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 
Vob  K. 


WAVEKLEY  NOVELS.  13. 


BOSTON  : 

SAMUEL  H.  PARKER,  NO.  164,  WASHINGTON -STREET. 


COLLECTED  AND  REPORTED 


BY 


1828. 


Waverley  Press — Boston.. 


THE 


C 


BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

By  cauk  and  keel  to  win  your  bread, 

Wi?  whigmaleeries  for  them  wha  need, 

Whilk  is  a gentle  trade  indeed 

To  carry  the  gaberlunzie  on. 

Old  Song. 

Few  have  been  in  my  secret  while  I was  compiling  these 
narratives,  nor  is  it  probable  that  they  will  ever  become 
public  during  the  life  of  their  author.  Even  were  that 
event  to  happen,  I am  not  ambitious  of  the  honoured  dis- 
tinction, monstrari  digito.  I confess,  that,  were  it  safe 
to  cherish  such  dreams  at  all,  I should  more  enjoy  the 
thought  of  remaining  behind  the  curtain  unseen,  like  the 
ingenious  manager  of  Punch  and  his  wife  Joan,  and  en- 
joying the  astonishment  and  conjectures  of  my  audience. 
Then  might  I,  perchance,  hear  the  productions  of  the 
obscure  Peter  Pattieson  praised  by  the  judicious,  and  ad- 
mired by  the  feeling,  engrossing  the  young,  and  attracting 
even  the  old  ; while  the  critic  traced  their  fame  up  to 
some  name  of  literary  celebrity,  and  the  question,  when, 
and  by  whom,  these  tales  were  written,  filled  up  the  pause 
4of  conversation  in  a hundred  circles  and  coteries.  This  I 
may  never  enjoy  during  my  lifetime  ; but  farther  than  this, 
I am  certain,  my  vanity  should  never  induce  me  to  aspire. 

I am  too  stubborn  in  habits,  and  too  little  polished  in 
manners,  to  envy  or  aspire  to  the  honours  assigned  to  mv 


4 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


literary  contemporaries.  I could  not  think  a whit  more 
highly  of  myself,  were  I even  found  worthy  to  “ come  in 
place  as  a lion,”  for  a winter  in  the  great  metropolis.  I 
could  not  rise,  turn  round,  and  show  all  my  honours,  from 
the  shaggy  mane  to  the  tufted  tail,  roar  ye  as  it  were  any 
nightingale,  and  so  lie  down  again  like  a well-behaved 
beast  of  show,  and  all  at  the  cheap  and  easy  rate  of  a cup 
of  coffee,  and  a slice  of  bread  and  butter  as  thin  as  a 
wafer.  And  I could  ill  stomach  the  fulsome  flattery  with 
which  the  lady  of  the  evening  indulges  her  show-monsters 
on  such  occasions,  as  she  crams  her  parrots  with  sugar- 
plums, in  order  to  make  them  talk  before  company.  I 
cannot  be  tempted  to  “ come  aloft,”  for  these  marks  of 
distinction,  and,  like  imprisoned  Samson,  I would  rather 
remain — if  such  must  be  the  alternative — all  my  life  in 
the  mill-house,  grinding  for  my  very  bread,  than  be  brought 
forth  to  make  sport  for  the  Philistine  lords  and  ladies. 
This  proceeds  from  no  dislike,  real  or  affected,  to  the 
aristocracy  of  these  realms.  But  they  have  their  place, 
and  I have  mine  ; and,  like  the  iron  and  earthen  vessels 
in  the  old  fable,  we  can  scarce  come  into  collision  without 
my  being  the  sufferer  in  every  sense.  It  may  be  other- 
wise with  the  sheets  which  I am  now  writing.  These 
may  be  opened  and  laid  aside  at  pleasure  ; by  amusing 
themselves  with  the  perusal,  the  great  will  excite  no  false 
hopes  ; by  neglecting  or  condemning  them,  they  will  in- 
flict no  pain  ; and  how  seldom  can  they  converse  with 
those  whose  minds  have  toiled  for  their  delight,  without 
doing  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

In  the  better  and  wiser  tone  of  feeling,  which  Ovid  only 
expresses  in  one  line  to  retract  in  that  which  follows,  I 
can  address  these  quires — 

Parve,  nec,  invideo , sine  me,  liber,  ibis  in  urbe. 

Nor  do  I join  the  regret  of  the  illustrious  exile,  that  he 
himself  could  not  in  person  accompany  the  volume,  which 
he  sent  forth  to  the  mart  of  literature,  pleasure,  and  lux- 
ury. Were  there  not  a hundred  similar  instances  on 
record,  the  fate  of  my  poor  friend  and  school-fellow,  Dick 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


5 


Tinto,  would  be  sufficient  to  warn  me  against  seeking 
happiness,  in  the  celebrity  which  attaches  itself  to  a suc- 
cessful cultivator  of  the  fine  arts. 

Dick  Tinto,  when  he  wrote  himself  artist,  was  wont  to 
derive  his  origin  from  the  ancient  family  of  Tinto,  of  that 
ilk,  in  Lanarkshire,  and  occasionally  hinted  that  he  had 
somewhat  derogated  from  his  gentle  blood,  in  using  the 
pencil  for  his  principal  means  of  support.  But  if  Dick’s 
pedigree  was  correct,  some  of  his  ancestors  must  have 
suffered  a more  heavy  declension,  since  the  good  man  his 
father  executed  the  necessary,  and,  I trust,  the  honest, 
but  certainly  not  very  distinguished  employment,  of  tailor 
in  ordinary  to  the  village  of  Langdirdum  in  the  west. 
Under  his  humble  roof  was  Richard  born,  and  to  his 
father’s  humble  trade  was  Richard,  greatly  contrary  to  his 
inclination,  early  indentured.  Old  Mr.  Tinto  had,  how- 
ever, no  reason  to  congratulate  himself  upon  having  com- 
pelled the  youthful  genius  of  his  son  to  forsake  its  natural 
bent.  He  fared  like  the  school-boy,  who  attempts  to  stop 
with  his  finger  the  spout  of  a water  cistern,  while  the 
stream,  exasperated  at  this  compression,  escapes  by  a 
thousand  uncalculated  spirts,  and  wets  him  all  over  for 
his  pains.  Even  so  fared  the  senior  Tinto,  when  his  hope- 
ful apprentice  not  only  exhausted  all  the  chalk  in  making 
sketches  upon  the  shopboard,  but  even  executed  several 
caricatures  of  his  father’s  best  customers,  who  began  loud- 
ly to  murmur,  that  it  was  too  hard  to  have  their  persons 
deformed  by  the  vestments  of  the  father,  and  to  be  at  the 
same  time  turned  into  ridicule  by  the  pencil  of  the  son. 
This  led  to  discredit  and  loss  of  practice,  until  the  old 
tailor,  yielding  to  destiny,  and  to  the  entreaties  of  his  son, 
permitted  him  to  attempt  his  fortune  in  a line  for  which 
he  was  better  qualified. 

There  was  about  this  time,  in  the  village  of  Langdir- 
dum, a peripatetic  brother  of  the  brush,  who  exercised 
his  vocation  sub  Jove  frigido,  the  object  of  admiration  to 
all  the  boys  of  the  village,  but  especially  to  Dick  Tinto. 
The  age  had  not  yet  adopted,  amongst  other  unworthy 
1*  vol.  i. 


6 * TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 

retrenchments,  that  illiberal  measure  of  economy,  which, 
supplying  by  written  characters  the  lack  of  symbolical 
representation,  closes  one  open  and  easily  accessible  ave- 
nue of  instruction  and  emolument  against  the  students  of 
the  fine  arts.  It  was  not  yet  permitted  to  write  upon 
the  plaistered  door  of  an  ale-house,  or  the  suspended 
sign  of  an  inn,  “ The  Old  Magpie,”  or  “ The  Saracen’s 
Head,”  substituting  that  cold  description  for  the  lively  effi- 
gies of  the  plumed  chatterer,  or  the  turban’d  frown  of  the 
terrific  soldan.  That  early  and  more  simple  age  consid- 
ered alike  the  necessities  of  all  ranks,  and  depicted  the 
symbols  of  good  cheer  so  as  to  be  obvious  to  all  capaci- 
ties ; well  judging,  that  a man,  who  could  not  read  a syl- 
lable, might  nevertheless  love  a pot  of  good  ale  as  well  as 
his  better  educated  neighbours,  or  even  as  the  parson  him- 
self. Acting  upon  this  liberal  principle,  publicans  as  yet 
hung  forth  the  painted  emblems  of  their  calling,  and  sign- 
painters,  if  they  seldom  feasted,  did  not  at  least  absolute- 
ly starve. 

To  a worthy  of  this  decayed  profession,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  Dick  Tinto  became  an  assistant ; and 
thus,  as  is  not  unusual  among  heaven-born  geniuses  in  this 
department  of  the  fine  arts,  began  to  paint  before  he  had 
any  notion  of  drawing. 

His  natural  talent  for  observing  nature  soon  induced 
him  to  rectify  the  errors,  and  soar  above  the  instructions, 
of  his  teacher.  He  particularly  shone  in  painting  horses, 
that  being  a favourite  sign  in  the  Scottish  villages  ; and, 
in  tracing  his  progress,  it  is  beautiful  to  observe,  how  by 
degrees  he  learned  to  shorten  the  backs,  and  prolong  the 
legs,  of  these  noble  animals,  until  they  came  to  look  less 
like  crocodiles,  and  more  like  nags.  Detraction,  which 
always  pursues  merit  with  strides  proportioned  to  its  ad- 
vancement, has  indeed  alleged,  that  Dick  once  upon  a 
time  painted  a horse  with  five  legs,  instead  of  four.  I 
might  have  rested  his  defence  upon  the  license  allowed  to 
that  branch  of  the  profession,  which,  as  it  permits  all  sorts 
of  singular  and  irregular  combinations,  may  be  allowed 
to  extend  itself  so  far  as  to  bestow  a limb  supernumerary 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


7 


on  a favourite  subject.  But  the  cause  of  a deceased 
friend  is  sacred  ; and  I disdain  to  bottom  it  so  superfi- 
cially. I have  visited  the  sign  in  question,  which  yet 
swings  exalted  in  the  village  of  Langdirdum,  and  I am 
ready  to  depone  upon  oath,  that  what  has  been  idly  mis- 
taken or  misrepresented  as  being  the  fifth  leg  of  the  horse, 
is,  in  fact,  the  tail  of  that  quadruped,  and,  considered  with 
reference  to  the  posture  in  which  he  is  delineated,  forms 
a circumstance,  introduced  and  managed  with  great  and 
successful,  though  daring  art.  The  nag  being  represented 
in  a rampant  or  rearing  posture,  the  tail,  which  is  prolong- 
ed till  it  touches  the  ground,  appears  to  form  a point 
d’appui , and  gives  the  firmness  of  a tripod  to  the  figure, 
without  which  it  would  be  difficult  of  conceive,  placed  as 
the  feet  are,  how  the  courser  could  maintain  his  ground 
without  tumbling  backwards.  This  bold  conception  has 
fortunately  fallen  into  the  custody  of  one  by  whom  it  is 
duly  valued  ; for,  when  Dick,  in  his  more  advanced  state 
of  proficiency,  became  dubious  of  the  propriety  of  so 
daring  a deviation  from  the  established  rules  of  art,  and 
was  desirous  to  execute  a picture  of  the  publican  himself 
in  exchange  for  this  juvenile  production,  the  courteous 
offer  was  declined  by  his  judicious  employer,  who  had 
observed,  it  seems,  that  when  his  ale  failed  to  do  its  duty 
in  conciliating  his  guest,  one  glance  at  his  sign  was  sure 
to  put  them  in  good  humour. 

It  would  be  foreign  to  my  present  purpose,  to  trace  the 
steps  by  which  Dick  Tinto  improved  his  touch,  and  cor- 
rected, by  the  rules  of  art,  the  luxuriance  of  a fervid  im- 
agination. The  scales  fell  from  his  eyes  on  viewing  the 
sketches  of  a contemporary,  the  Scottish  Teniers,  as 
Wilkie  has  been  deservedly  styled.  He  threw  down  the 
brush,  took  up  the  crayons,  and,  amid  hunger  and  toil, 
and  suspense  and  uncertainty,  pursued  the  path  of  his 
profession  under  better  auspices  than  those  of  his  original 
master.  Still  the  first  rude  emanations  of  his  genius  (like 
the  nursery  rhymes  of  Pope,  could  these  be  recovered,) 
will  be  dear  to  the  companions  of  Dick  Tinto’s  youth. 
There  is  a tankard  and  gridiron  painted  over  the  door  of 


8 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


an  obscure  change-house  in  the  Back-wynd  of  Gander- 
cleugh — But  I feel  I must -tear  myself  from  the  subject, 
or  dwell  on  it  too  long. 

Amid  his  wants  and  struggles,  Dick  Tinto  had  recourse, 
like  his  brethren,  to  levying  that  tax  upon  the  vanity  of 
mankind  which  he  could  not  extract  from  their  taste  and 
liberality — in  a word,  he  painted  portraits.  It  was  in  this 
more  advanced  stage  of  proficiency,  when  Dick  had  soar- 
ed above  his  original  line  of  business,  and  highly  disdained 
any  allusion  to  it,  that,  after  having  been  estranged  for 
several  years,  we  again  met  in  the  village  of  Gander- 
cleugh,  I holding  my  present  situation,  and  Dick  painting 
copies  of  the  human  face  divine  at  a guinea  per  head. 
This  was  a small  premium,  yet  in  the  first  burst  of  busi- 
ness, it  more  than  sufficed  for  all  Dick’s  moderate  wants ; 
so  that  he  occupied  an  apartment  at  the  Wallace  Inn, 
cracked  his  jest  with  impunity  even  upon  mine  host  him- 
self, and  lived  in  respect  and  observance  with  the  cham- 
bermaid, hostler,  and  waiter. 

Those  halcyon  days  were  too  serene  to  last  long. 
When  his  honour  the  Laird  of  Gandercleugh,  with  his 
wife  and  three  daughters,  the  minister,  the  gauger,  mine 
esteemed  patron  Mr.  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  and  some 
round  dozen  of  the  feuars  and  farmers,  had  been  consign- 
ed to  immortality  by  Tinto’s  brush,  custom  began  to  slack- 
en, and  it  was  impossible  to  wring  more  than  crowns  and 
half-crowns  from  the  hard  hands  of  the  peasants,  whose 
ambition  led  them  to  Dick’s  painting-room. 

Still,  though  the  horizon  was  overclouded,  no  storm  for 
some  time  ensued.  Mine  host  had  Christian  faith  with  a 
lodger,  who  had  been  a good  paymaster  as  long  as  he  had 
the  means.  And  from  a portrait  of  our  landlord  himself, 
grouped  with  his  wife  and  daughters,  in  the  style  of  Ru- 
bens, which  suddenly  appeared  in  the  best  parlour,  it  was 
evident  that  Dick  had  found  some  mode  of  bartering  art 
for  the  necessaries  of  life. 

Nothing,  however,  is  more  precarious  than  resources  of 
this  nature.  It  was  observed,  that  Dick  became  in  his 
turn  the  whetstone  of  mine  host’s  wit,  without  venturing 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


9 


either  at  defence  or  retaliation  ; that  his  easel  was  trans- 
ferred to  a garret-room,  in  which  there  was  scarce  space 
for  it  to  stand  upright ; and  that  he  no  longer  ventured  to 
join  the  weekly  club,  of  which  he  had  been  once  the  life 
and  soul.  In  short,  Dick  Tinto’s  friends  feared  that  he 
had  acted  like  the  animal  called  the  sloth,  which,  having 
eaten  up  the  last  green  leaf  upon  the  tree  where  it  has 
established  itself,  ends  by  tumbling  down  from  the  top, 
and  dying  of  inanition.  I ventured  to  hint  this  to  Dick, 
recommended  his  transferring  the  exercise  of  his  inesti- 
mable talent  to  some  other  sphere,  and  forsaking  the 
common  which  he  might  be  said  to  have  eaten  bare. 

“ There  is  an  obstacle  to  my  change  of  residence,” 
said  my  friend,  grasping  my  hand  with  a look  of  solemnity. 

“ A bill  due  to  my  landlord,  I am  afraid,”  replied  I, 
with  heartfelt  sympathy  ; “ if  any  part  of  my  slender 
means  can  assist  in  this  emergence” 

“ No,  by  the  soul  of  Sir  Joshua,”  answered  the  gen- 
erous youth,  “ I will  never  involve  a friend  in  the  conse- 
quences of  my  own  misfortune.  There  is  a mode  by 
which  I can  regain  my  liberty  ; and  to  creep  even  through 
a common  sewer,  is  better  than  to  remain  in  prison.” 

I did  not  perfectly  understand  what  my  friend  meant. 
The  muse  of  painting  appeared  to  have  failed  him,  and 
what  other  goddess  he  could  invoke  in  his  distress,  was  a 
mystery  to  me.  We  parted,  however,  without  further 
explanation,  and  I did  not  again  see  him  until  three  days 
after,  when  he  summoned  me  to  partake  of  the  foy  with 
which  his  landlord  proposed  to  regale  him  ere  his  depart- 
ure for  Edinburgh. 

I found  Dick  in  high  spirits,  whistling  while  he  buckled 
the  small  knapsack,  which  contained  his  colours,  brushes, 
pallets,  and  clean  shirt.  That  he  parted  on  the  best  terms 
with  mine  host,  was  obvious  from  the  cold  beef  set  forth 
in  the  low  parlour,  flanked  by  two  mugs  of  admirable 
brown  stout,  and  I own  my  curiosity  was  excited  concern- 
ing the  means  through  which  the  face  of  my  friend’s  af- 
fairs had  been  so  suddenly  improved.  I did  not  suspect 
Dick  of  dealing  with  the  devil,  and  by  what  earthly  means 


10 


T AXE S OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


he  had  extricated  himself  thus  happily,  I was  at  a total 
loss  to  conjecture. 

He  perceived  my  curiosity,  and  took  me  by  the  hand, 
“ My  friend,”  he  said,  “ fain  would  I conceal,  even  from 
you,  the  degradation  to  which  it  has  been  necessary  to 
submit,  in  order  to  accomplish  an  honourable  retreat  from 
Gandercleugh.  But  what  avails  attempting  to  conceal 
that,  which  must  needs  betray  itself  even  by  its  superior 
excellence  All  the  village — all  the  parish — all  the  world 

— will  soon  discover  to  what  poverty  has  reduced  Richard 
Tinto.” 

A sudden  thought  here  struck  me — I had  observed  that 
our  landlord  wore,  on  that  memorable  morning,  a pair  of 
bran  new  velveteens,  instead  of  his  ancient  thicksets. 

“ What,”  said  I,  drawing  my  right  hand,  with  the  fore- 
finger and  thumb  pressed  together,  nimbly  from  my  right 
haunch  to  the  left  shoulder,  “ you  have  condescended  to 
resume  the  paternal  arts  to  which  you  were  first  bred — 
long  stitches,  ha,  Dick  <?” 

He  repelled  this  unlucky  conjecture  with  a frown  and 
a pshaw,  indicative  of  indignant  contempt,  and  leading  me 
into  another  room,  showed  me,  resting  against  the  wall, 
the  majestic  head  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  grim  as  when 
severed  from  the  trunk  by  the  orders  of  the  felon  Edward. 

The  painting  was  executed  on  boards  of  a substantial 
thickness,  and  the  top  decorated  with  irons,  for  suspending 
the  honoured  effigy  upon  a sign-post. 

“ There,”  he  said,  “ my  friend,  stands  the  honour  of 
Scotland,  and  my  shame — yet  not  so — rather  the  shame 
of  those  who,  instead  of  encouraging  art  in  its  proper 
sphere,  reduce  it  to  these  unbecoming  and  unworthy  ex- 
tremities.” 

J endeavoured  to  smooth  the  ruffled  feelings  of  my  mis- 
used and  indignant  friend.  I reminded  him,  that  he  ought 
not,  like  the  stag  in  the  fable,  to  despise  the  quality  which 
had  extricated  him  from  difficulties,  in  which  his  talents, 
as  a portrait  or  landscape  painter,  had  been  found  una- 
vailing. Above  all,  I praised  the  execution,  as  well  as 
conception,  of  his  painting,  and  reminded  him,  that  far 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


11 


from  feeling  dishonoured  by  so  superb  a specimen  of  his 
talents  being  exposed  to  the  general  view  of  the  public, 
he  ought  rather  to  congratulate  himself  upon  the  augmen- 
tation of  his  celebrity,  to  which  its  public  exhibition  must 
necessarily  give  rise. 

“ You  are  right,  my  friend — you  are  right,”  replied 
poor  Dick,  his  eye  kindling  with  enthusiasm  ; “ why 
should  I shun  the  name  of  an — an — (he  hesitated  for  a 
phrase) — an  out-of-doors  artist  9 Hogarth  has  introduc- 
ed himself  in  that  character  in  one  of  his  best  engrav- 
ings— Domenichino,  or  some  body  else,  in  ancient  times 
— Moreland  in  our  own,  have  exercised  their  talents  in 
this  manner.  And  wherefore  limit  to  the  rich  and  higher 
classes  alone  the  delight  which  the  exhibition  of  works  of 
art  is  calculated  to  inspire  into  all  classes  Statues  are 
placed  in  the  open  air,  why  should  Painting  be  more  nig- 
gardly in  displaying  her  master-pieces  than  her  sister 
Sculpture  And  yet,  my  friend,  we  must  part  suddenly  ; 
the  men  are  coming  in  an  hour  to  put  up  the — the  em- 
blem ; and  truly,  with  all  my  philosophy,  and  your  conso- 
latory encouragement  to  boot,  I would  rather  wish  to  leave 
Gandercleugh  before  that  operation  commences.” 

We  partook  of  our  genial  host’s  parting  banquet,  and  I 
escorted  Dick  on  his  walk  to  Edinburgh.  We  parted 
about  a mile  from  the  village,  just  as  we  heard  the  distant 
cheer  of  the  boys  which  accompanied  the  mounting  of 
the  new  symbol  of  the  Wallace-Head.  Dick  Tinto  mend- 
ed his  pace  to  get  out  of  hearing, — so  little  had  either 
early  practice  or  recent  philosophy  reconciled  him  to  the 
character  of  a sign-painter. 

In  Edinburgh,  Dick’s  talents  were  discovered  and  ap- 
preciated, and  he  received  dinners  and  hints  from  several 
distinguished  judges  of  the  fine  arts.  But  these  gentle- 
men dispensed  their  criticism  more  willingly  than  their 
cash,  and  Dick  thought  he  needed  cash  more  than  criti- 
cism. He  therefore  sought  London,  the  universal  mart 
of  talent,  and  where,  as  is  usual  in  general  marts  of  most 
descriptions,  much  more  of  the  commodity  is  exposed  to 
sale  than  can  ever  find  purchasers. 


12 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Dick,  who,  in  serious  earnest,  was  supposed  to  have 
considerable  natural  talents  for  his  profession,  and  whose 
vain  and  sanguine  disposition  never  permitted  him  to  doubt 
for  a moment  of  ultimate  success,  threw  himself  headlong 
into  the  crowd  which  jostled  and  struggled  for  notice  and 
preferment.  He  elbowed  others,  and  was  elbowed  him- 
self ; and  finally,  by  dint  of  intrepidity,  fought  his  way 
into  some  notice,  painted,  for  the  prize  at  the  Institution, 
had  pictures  at  the  exhibition  at  Somerset-house,  and 
damned  the  hanging  committee.  But  poor  Dick  was 
doomed  to  lose  the  field  he  fought  so  gallantly.  In  the 
fine  arts,  there  is  scarce  an  alternative  betwixt  distinguish- 
ed success  and  absolute  failure  ; and  as  Dick’s  zeal  and 
industry  were  unable  to  ensure  the  former,  he  fell  into  the 
distresses  which,  in  his  condition,  were  the  natural  con- 
sequences of  the  litter  alternative.  He  was  for  a time 
patronized  by  one  or  two  of  those  judicious  persons  who 
make  a virtue  of  being  singular,  and  of  pitching  their  own 
opinions  against  those  of  the  world  in  matters  of  taste  and 
criticism.  But  they  soon  tired  of  poor  Tinto,  and  laid 
him  down  as  a load,  upon  the  principle  on  which  a spoilt 
child  throws  away  its  plaything.  Misery,  I fear,  took  him 
up,  and  accompanied  him  to  a premature  grave,  to  which 
he  was  carried  from  an  obscure  lodging  in  Swallow-street, 
where  he  had  been  dunned  by  his  landlady  within  doors, 
and  watched  by  bailiffs  without,  until  death  came  to  his 
relief.  A corner  of  the  Morning  Post  noticed  his  death, 
generously  adding,  that  his  manner  displayed  considerable 
genius,  though  his  style  was  rather  sketchy  ; and  referred 
to  an  advertisement,  which  announced  that  Mr.  Varnish, 
a well-known  print-seller,  had  still  on  hand  a very  few 
drawings  and  paintings  by  Richard  Tinto,  Esquire,  which 
those  of  the  nobility  and  gentry,  who  might  wish  to  com- 
plete their  collections  of  modern  art,  were  invited  to  visit 
without  delay.  So  ended  Dick  Tinto,  a lamentable  proof 
of  the  great  truth,  that  in  the  fine  arts  mediocrity  is  not 
permitted,  and  that  he  who  cannot  ascend  to  the  very  top 
of  the  ladder  will  do  well  not  to  put  his  foot  upon  it  at  all. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


13 


The  memory  of  Tinto  is  dear  to  me,  from  the  recol- 
lection of  the  many  conversations  which  wre  have  had  to- 
gether, most  of  them  turning  upon  my  present  task.  He 
was  delighted  with  my  progress,  and  talked  of  an  orna- 
mented and  illustrated  edition,  with  heads,  vignettes,  and 
culs  de  lampe , all  to  be  designed  by  his  own  patriotic  and 
friendly  pencil.  He  prevailed  upon  an  old  sergeant  of  in- 
valids to- sit  to  him  in  the  character  of  Bothwell,  the  life- 
guard Vman  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  bell-man  of 
Gandercleugh  in  that  of  David  Deans.  But  while  he  thus 
proposed  to  unite  his  own  pow7ers  with  mine  for  the  illus- 
tration of  these  narratives,  he  mixed  many  a dose  of  sal- 
utary criticism  with  the  panegyrics  which  my  composition 
was  at  times  so  fortunate  as  to  call  forth. 

“ Your  characters,”  he  said,  “ my  dear  Pattieson,  make 
too  much  use  of  the  gob  box  ; they  patter  too  much — 
(an  elegant  phraseology,  which  Dick  had  learned  while 
painting  the  scenes  of  an  itinerant  company  of  players) 
— there  is  nothing  in  whole  pages  but  mere  chat  and  dia- 
logue.” 

“ The  ancient  philosopher,”  said  I in  reply,  “ w7as  wont 
to  say,  6 Speak,  that  I may  know  thee  and  how  is  it 
possible  for  an  author  to  introduce  his  personae  dramatis 
to  his  readers  in  a more  interesting  and  effectual  manner, 
than  by  the  dialogue  in  which  each  is  represented  as  sup- 
porting his  own  appropriate  character  V9 

“ It  is  a false  conclusion,”  said  Tinto  ; “ I hate  it, 
Peter,  as  I hate  an  unfilled  can.  I will  grant  you,  indeed, 
that  speech  is  a faculty  of  some  value  in  the  intercourse 
of  human  affairs,  and  I will  not  even  insist  on  the  doctrine 
of  that  Pythagorean  toper,  who  w7as  of  opinion,  that  over 
a bottle  speaking  spoiled  conversation.  But  I will  not 
allow  that  a professor  of  the  fine  arts  has  occasion  to  em- 
body the  idea  of  his  scene  in  language,  in  order  to  im- 
press upon  the  reader  its  reality  and  its  effect.  On  the 
contrary,  I will  be  judged  by  most  of  your  readers,  Peter, 
should  these  tales  ever  become  public,  whether  you  have 
not  given  us  a page  of  talk  for  every  single  idea  which 
2 VOL.  I. 


14 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


two  words  might  have  communicated,  while  the  posture, 
and  manner,  and  incident,  accurately  drawn,  and  brought 
out  by  appropriate  colouring,  would  have  preserved  all 
that  was  worthy  of  preservation,  and  saved  these  ever- 
lasting said  he’s  and  said  she’s,  with  which  it  has  been 
your  pleasure  to  encumber  your  pages.” 

I replied,  “ that  he  confounded  the  operations  of  the 
pencil  and  the  pen  ; that  the  serene  and  silent  art,  as 
painting  has  been  called  by  one  of  our  first  living  poets, 
necessarily  appealed  to  the  eye,  because  it  had  not  the 
organs  for  addressing  the  ear  : whereas  poetry,  or  that 
species  of  composition  which  approached  to  it,  lay  under 
the  necessity  of  doing  absolutely  the  reverse,  and  address- 
ed itself  to  the  ear,  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  that  interest 
which  it  could  not  attain  through  the  medium  of  the  eye.” 
Dick  was  not  a whit  staggered  by  my  argument,  which 
he  contended  was  founded  on  misrepresentation.  “ De- 
scription,” he  said,  “ was  to  the  author  of  a romance  ex- 
actly what  drawing  and  tinting  were  to  a painter  ; words 
were  his  colours,  and,  if  properly  employed,  they  could 
not  fail  to  place  the  scene,  which  he  washed  to  conjure  up, 
as  effectually  before  the  mind’s  eye,  as  the  tablet  or  can- 
vass presents  it  to  the  bodily  organ.  The  same  rules,”  he 
contended,  “ applied  to  both,  and  an  exuberance,  of  dia- 
logue in  the  former  case,  was  a verbose  and  laborious  mode 
of  composition  which  went  to  confound  the  proper  art  of 
fictitious  narrative  with  that  of  the  drama,  a widely  differ- 
ent species  of  composition,  of  which  dialogue  was  the 
very  essence  ; because  all,  excepting  the  language  to  be 
made  use  of,  was  presented  to  the  eye  by  the  dresses,  and 
persons,  and  actions  of  the  performers  upon  the  stage. 
But  as  nothing,”  said  Dick,  “ can  be  more  dull  than  a 
long  narrative  written  upon  the  plan  of  a drama,  so  where 
you  have  approached  most  near  to  that  species  of  compo- 
sition, by  indulging  in  prolonged  scenes  of  mere  conver- 
sation, the  course  of  your  story  has  become  chill  and  con- 
strained, and  you  have  lost  the  power  of  arresting  the 
attention  and  exciting  the  imagination,  in  which  upon 


THE  BRIDE  OF  JtAMMERMOOR. 


15 


other  occasions  you  may  be  considered  as  having  succeed- 
ed tolerably  well.” 

1 made  my  bow  in  requital  of  the  compliment,  which 
was  probably  thrown  in  by  way  of  placebo , and  express- 
ed myself  willing  at  least  to  make  one  trial  of  a more 
straight  forward  style  of  composition,  in  which  my  actors 
should  do  more,  and  say  less,  than  in, my  former  attempts 
of  this  kind.  Dick  gave  me  a patronizing  and  approving 
nod,  and  observed,  that,  finding  me  so  docile,  he  would 
communicate,  for  the  benefit  of  my  muse,  a subject  which 
he  had  studied  with  a view  to  his  own  art. 

“ The  story,”  he  said,  66  was  by  tradition,  affirmed  to  be 
truth,  although,  as  upwards  of  a hundred  years  had  pass- 
ed away  since  the  events  took  place,  some  doubts  upon 
the  accuracy  of  the  particulars  might  be  reasonably  en- 
tertained.” 

When  Dick  Tinto  had  thus  spoken,  he  rummaged  his 
port-folio  for  the  sketch  from  which  he  proposed  one  day 
to  execute  a picture  of  fourteen  feet  by  eight.  The 
sketch,  which  was  cleverly  executed,  to  use  the  appropri- 
ate phrase,  presented  an  ancient  hall,  fitted  up  and  fur- 
nished in  what  we  now  call  the  taste  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth’s age.  The  light,  admitted  from  the  upper  part  of 
a high  casement,  fell  upon  a female  figure  of  exquisite 
beauty,  who,  in  an  attitude  of  speechless  terror,  appeared 
to  watch  the  issue  of  a debate  betwixt  two  other  persons. 
The  one  wras  a young  man,  in  the  Vandyke  dr^ss  common 
to  the  time  of  Charles  I.,  who,  with  an  air  of  indignant 
pride,  testified  by  the  manner  in  which  he  raised  his  head 
and  extended  his  arm,  seemed  to  be  urging  a claim  of 
right,  rather  than  of  favour,  to  a lady,  whose  age,  and 
some  resemblance  in  their  features,  pointed  her  out  as  the 
mother  of  the  younger  female,  and  who  appeared  to  listen 
with  a mixture  of  displeasure  and  impatience. 

Tinto  produced  his  sketch  with  an  air  of  mysterious 
triumph,  and  gazed  on  it  as  a fond  parent  looks  upon  a 
hopeful  child,  while  he  anticipates  the  future  figure  he  is 
to  make  in  the  world,  and  the  height  to  which  he  will 
raise  the  honour  of  his  family.  He  held  it  at  arms’  length 


16 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


from  me, — he  held  it  closer, — he  placed  it  upon  the  top 
of  a chest  of  drawers,  closed  the  lower  shutters  of  the 
casement,  to  adjust  a downward  and  favourable  light, — 
fell  back  to  the  due  distance,  dragging  me  after  him, — 
shaded  his  face  with  his  hand,  as  if  to  exclude  all  but  the 
favourite  object, — and  ended  by  spoiling  a child’s  copy- 
book, which  he  rolled  up  so  as  to  serve  for  the  darkened 
tube  of  an  amateur.  I fancy  my  expressions  of  enthusi- 
asm had  not  been  in  proportion  to  his  own,  for  he  pres- 
ently exclaimed  with  vehemence,  “ Mr.  Pattieson,  I used 
to  think  you  had  an  eye  in  your  head.” 

I vindicated  my  claim  to  the  usual  allowance  of  visual 
organs. 

“ Yet,  on  my  honour,”  said  Dick,  “ I would  swear  you 
had  been  born  blind,  since  you  have  failed  at  the  first 
glance  to  discover  the  subject  and  meaning  of  that  sketch. 
1 do  not  mean  to  praise  my  own  performance,  I leave 
these  arts  to  others  ; I am  sensible  of  my  deficiencies, 
conscious  that  my  drawing  and  colouring  may  be  improv- 
ed by  the  time  I intend  to  dedicate  to  the  art.  But  the 
conception — the  expression — the  positions — these  tell  the 
story  to  every  one  who  looks  at  the  sketch  ; and  if  I can 
finish  the  picture  without  diminution  of  the  original  con- 
ception, the  name  of  Tinto  shall  no  more  be  smothered 
by  the  mists  of  envy  and  intrigue.” 

I replied,  “ That  I admired  the  sketch  exceedingly  ; 
but  that  to  understand  its  full  merit,  I felt  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  be  informed  of  the  subject.” 

“ That  is  the  very  thing  I complain  of,”  answered  Tin- 
to ; “ you  have  accustomed  yourself  so  much  to  these 
creeping  twilight  details  of  yours,  that  you  are  become 
incapable  of  receiving  that  instant  and  vivid  flash  of  con- 
viction, which  darts  on  the  mind  from  seeing  the  happy 
and  expressive  combinations  of  a single  scene,  and  which 
gathers  from  the  position,  attitude,  and  countenance  of  the 
moment,  not  only  the  history  of  the  past  lives  of  the  per- 
sonages represented,  and  the  nature  of  the  business  on 
which  they  are  immediately  engaged,  but  lifts  even  the 


THE  BRIBE  OE  XAMMERMOOR. 


17 


veil  of  futurity,  and  affords  a shrewd  guess  at  their  future 
fortunes.” 

“ In  that  case,”  replied  I,  “ Painting  excels  the  Ape  of 
the  renowned  Gines  de  Passamont,  which  only  meddled 
with  the  past  and  the  present  ; nay,  she  excels  that  very 
Nature,  who  affords  her  subjects  ; for  I protest  to  you, 
Dick,  that  were  I permitted  to  peep  into  that  Elizabeth- 
chamber,  and  see  the  persons  you  have  sketched  convers- 
ing in  flesh  and  blood,  I should  not  be  a jot  nearer  guess- 
ing the  nature  of  their  business,  than  I am  at  this  moment 
while  looking  at  your  sketch.  Only  generally,  from  the 
languishing  look  of  the  young  lady,  and  the  care  you  have 
taken  to  present  a very  handsome  leg  on  the  part  of  the 
gentleman,  I presume  there  is  some  reference  to  a love 
affair  between  them.” 

“ Do  you  really  presume  to  form  such  a bold  conjec- 
ture 9”  said  Tinto.  “ And  the  indignant  earnestness  with 
which  you  see  the  man  urge  his  suit — the  unresisting  and 
passive  despair  of  the  younger  female — the  stern  air  of  in- 
flexible determination  in  the  elder  woman,  whose  looks  ex- 
press at  once  consciousness  that  she  is  acting  wrong,  and  a 
firm  determination  to  persist  in  the  course  she  has  adopt- 
ed”— 

“ If  her  looks  express  all  this,  my  dear  Tinto,”  replied 
I,  interrupting  him,  “ your  pencil  rivals  the  dramatic  art 
of  Mr.  Puffin  the  Critic,  who  crammed  a whole  compli- 
cated sentence  into  the  expressive  shake  of  Lord  Bur- 
leigh’s head.” 

“ My  good  friend,  Peter,”  replied  Tinto,  “ I observe 
you  are  perfectly  incorrigible  ; however,  I have  compas- 
sion on  your  dulness,  and  am  unwilling  you  should  be  de- 
prived of  the  pleasure  of  understanding  my  picture,  and 
of  gaining,  at  the  same  time,  a subject  for  your  own  pen. 
You  must  knowr  then,  last  summer,  while  I was  taking 
sketches  on  the  coast  of  East  Lothian  and  Berwickshire, 

I was  seduced  into  the  mountains  of  Lammermoor  by  the 
account  I received  of  some  remains  of  antiquity  in  that 
district.  Those  with  which  I was  most  struck,  were  the 
2*  vo L.  i. 


18 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


ruins  of  an  ancient  castle  in  which  that  Elizabeth-chamber 
as  you  call  it,  once  existed.  I resided  for  two  or  three 
days  at  a farm-house  in  the  neighbourhood,  where  the 
aged  goodwife  was  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of  the 
castle,  and  the  events  which  had  taken  place  in  it.  One 
of  these  was  of  a nature  so  interesting  and  singular,  that 
my  attention  was  divided  between  my  wish  to  draw  the 
old  ruins  in  landscape,  and  to  represent  in  a history-piece 
the  singular  events  which  have  taken  place  in  it.  Here 
are  my  notes  of  the  tale,”  said  poor  Dick,  handing  a par- 
cel of  loose  scraps,  partly  scratched  over  with  his  pencil, 
partly  with  his  pen,  where  outlines  of  caricatures,  sketches 
of  turrets,  mills,  old  gables,  and  dove-cots,  disputed  the 
ground  with  his  written  memoranda. 

I proceeded,  however,  to  decipher  the  substance  of 
the  manuscript  as  well  as  I could,  and  wove  it  into  the 
following  Tale,  in  which,  following  in  part,  though  not  en- 
tirely, my  friend  Tinto’s  advice,  I endeavoured  to  render 
my  narrative  rather  descriptive  than  dramatic.  My  fa- 
vourite propensity,  however,  has  at  times  overcome  me, 
and  my  persons,  like  many  others  in  this  talking  world, 
speak  now  and  then  a great  deal  more  than  they  act. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Well,  lords,  we  have  not  got  that  which  we  have  ; 

;Tis  not  enough  our  foes  are  this  time  fled, 

Being  opposites  of  such  repairing  nature. 

Second.  Part  of  Henrij  VI. 

In  the  gorge  of  a pass  or  mountain  glen,  ascending 
from  the  fertile  plains  of  East  Lothian,  there  stood  in 
former  times  an  extensive  castle,  of  which  only  the  ruins 
are  now  visible.  Its  ancient  proprietors  were  a race  of 
powerful  and  warlike  barons,  who  bore  the  same  name 
with  the  castle  itself,  which  was  Ravenswood.  Their  line 
extended  to  a remote  period  of  antiquity,  and  they  had 


THE  BBIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


19 


intermarried  with  the  Douglasses,  Humes,  Swintons,  Hays, 
and  other  families  of  power  and  distinction  in  the  same 
country.  Their  history  was  frequently  involved  in  that  of 
Scotland  itself,  in  whose  annals  their  feats  are  recorded. 
The  Castle  of  Ravenswood,  occupying,  and  in  some  meas- 
ure commanding,  a pass  betwixt  Berwickshire  or  the 
Merse,  as  the  south-eastern  province  of  Scotland  is  term- 
ed, and  the  Lothians,  was  of  importance  both  in  times  of 
foreign  war  and  domestic  discord.  It  was  frequently  be- 
sieged with  ardour  and  defended  with  obstinacy,  and  of 
course,  its  owners  played  a conspicuous  part  in  story. 
But  their  house  had  its  revolutions,  like  all  sublunary 
things;  it  became  greatly  declined  from  its  splendour  about 
the  middle  of  the  17th  century  ; and  towards  the  period 
of  the  Revolution,  the  last  proprietor  of  Ravenswood  Cas- 
tle saw  himself  compelled  to  part  with  the  ancient  family 
seat,  and  to  remove  himself  to  a lonely  and  sea-beaten 
tower,  which,  situated  on  the  bleak  shores  between  Saint 
Abb’s  Head  and  the  village  of  Eyemouth,  looked  out  on 
the  lonely  and  boisterous  German  Ocean.  A black  do- 
main of  wild  pasture-land  surrounded  their  new  residence, 
and  formed  the  remains  of  their  property. 

Lord  Ravenswood,  the  heir  of  this  ruined  family,  was 
far  from  bending  his  mind  to  his  new  condition  of  life. 
In  the  civil  war  of  1689,  he  had  espoused  the  sinking  side, 
and  although  he  had  escaped  without  the  forfeiture  of  life 
or  land,  his  blood  had  been  attainted,  and  his  title  abol- 
ished. He  was  now  called  Lord  Ravenswood  only  in 
courtesy. 

This  forfeited  nobleman  inherited  the  pride  and  turbu- 
lence, though  not  the  fortune  of  his  family,  and,  as  he  im- 
puted the  final  declension  of  his  family  to  a particular 
individual,  he  honoured  that  person  with  his  full  portion 
of  hatred.  This  was  the  very  man  who  had  now  become, 
by  purchase,  proprietor  of  Ravenswood,  and  the  domains 
of  which  the  heir  of  the  house  now  stood  dispossessed. 
He  was  descended  of  a family  much  less  ancient  than  that 
of  Lord  Ravenswood,  and  which  had  only  risen  to  wealth 
and  political  importance  during  the  great  civil  wars.  He 


20 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


himself  bad  been  bred  to  the  bar,  and  had  held  high  offi- 
ces in  the  state,  maintaining  through  life  the  character  of 
a skilful  fisher  in  the  troubled  waters  of  a state  divided  by 
factions,  and  governed  by  delegated  authority  ; and  of  one 
who  contrived  to  amass'  considerable  sums  of  money  in 
a country  where  there  was  but  little  to  be  gathered,  and 
who  equally  knew  the  value  of  wealth,  and  the  various 
means  of  augmenting  it,  and  using  it  as  an  engine  of  in- 
creasing his  power  and  influence. 

Thus  qualified  and  gifted,  he  was  a dangerous  antago- 
nist to  the  fierce  and  imprudent  Ravenswood.  Whether 
he  had  given  him  good  cause  for  the  enmity  with  which 
the  baron  regarded  him,  was  a point  on  which  men  spoke 
differently.  Some  said  the  quarrel  arose  merely  from  the 
vindictive  spirit  and  envy  of  Lord  Ravenswood,  who 
could  not  patiently  behold  another,  though  by  just  and 
fair  purchase,  become  the  proprietor  of  the  estate  and 
castle  of  his  forefathers.  But  the  greater  part  of  the  pub- 
lic, prone  to  slander  the  wealthy  in  their  absence,  as  to 
flatter  them  in  their  presence,  held  a less  charitable  opin- 
ion. They  said,  that  the  Lord  Keeper,  (for  to  this  height 
Sir  William  Ashton  had  ascended,)  had,  previous  to  the 
final  purchase  of  the  estate  of  Ravenswood,  been  con- 
cerned in  extensive  pecuniary  transactions  with  the  former 
proprietor  ; and,  rather  intimating  what  was  probable,  than 
affirming  anything  positively,  they  asked  which  party  was 
likely  to  have  the  advantage  in  stating  and  enforcing  the 
claims  arising  out  of  these  complicated  affairs,  and  more 
than  hinted  the  advantages  which  the  cool  lawyer  and 
able  politician  must  necessarily  possess  over  the  hot,  fiery, 
and  imprudent  character,  whom  he  had  involved  in  legal 
toils,  and  pecuniary  snares. 

The  character  of  the  times  aggravated  these  suspicions. 
“ In  those  days  there  was  no  king  in  Israel.”  Since  the 
departure  of  James  VI.  to  assume  the  richer  and  more 
powerful  crown  of  England,  there  had  existed  in  Scotland 
contending  parties,  formed  among  the  aristocracy,  by 
whom,  as  their  intrigues  at  the  court  of  St.  James’s  chanc- 
ed to  prevail,  the  delegated  powers  of  sovereignty  were 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


21 


alternately  swayed.  The  evils  attending  upon  this  sys- 
tem of  government,  resembled  those  which  afflict  the 
tenants  of  an  Irish  estate  owned  by  an  absentee.  There 
was  no  supreme  power,  claiming  and  possessing  a general 
interest  with  the  community  at  large,  to  whom  the  op- 
pressed might  appeal  from  subordinate  tyranny,  either  for 
justice  or  for  mercy.  Let  a monarch  be  as  indolent,  as 
selfish,  as  much  disposed  to  arbitrary  power  as  he  will, 
still,  in  a free  country,  his  own  interests  are  so  clearly 
connected  with  those  of  the  public  at  large,  and  the  evil 
consequences  to  his  own  authority  are  so  obvious  and  im- 
minent when  a different  course  is  pursued,  that  common 
policy,  as  well  as  common  feeling,  point  to  the  equal  dis- 
tribution of  justice,  and  to  the  establishment  of  the  throne 
in  righteousness.  Thus,  even  sovereigns,  remarkable  for 
usurpation  and  tyranny,  have  been  found  rigorous  in  the 
administration  of  justice  among  their  subjects,  in  cases 
where  their  own  power  and  passions  were  not  com- 
promised. 

It  is  very  different  when  the  powers  of  sovereignty  are 
delegated  to  the  head  of  an  aristocratic  faction,  rivalled 
and  pressed  closely  in  the  race  of  ambition  by  an  adverse 
leader.  His  brief  and  precarious  enjoyment  of  power 
must  be  employed  in  rewarding  his  partizans,  in  extending 
his  influence,  in  oppressing  and  crushing  his  adversaries. 
Even  Abon  Hassan,  the  most  disinterested  of  all  viceroys, 
forgot  not,  during  his  caliphate  of  one  day,  to  send  a 
douceur  of  one  thousand  pieces  of  gold  to  his  own  house- 
hold ; and  the  Scottish  vicegerents,  raised  to  power  by 
the  strength  of  their  faction,  failed  not  to  embrace  the 
same  means  of  rewarding  them. 

The  administration  of  justice,  in  particular,  was  infect- 
ed by  the  most  gross  partiality.  Scarce  a case  of  impor- 
tance could  occur,  in  which  there  was  not  some  ground 
for  bias  or  partiality  on  the  part  of  the  judges,  who  were 
so  little  able  to  withstand  the  temptation,  that  the  adage, 
“ Show  me  the  man,  and  I will  show  you  the  law,”  be- 
came as  prevalent  as  it  was  scandalous.  One  corruption 
led  the  way  to  others  still  more  gross  and  profligate.  The 


22 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


judge  who  lent  his  sacred  authority  in  one  case  to  support 
a friend,  and  in  order  to  crush  an  enemy,  and  whose  de- 
cisions were  founded  on  family  connexions  or  political  re- 
lations, could  not  be  supposed  inaccessible  to  direct  per- 
sonal motives,  and  the  purse  of  the  wealthy  was  too  often 
believed  to  be  thrown  into  the  scale  to  weigh  down  the 
cause  of  the  poorer  litigant.  The  subordinate  officers  of 
the  law  affected  little  scruple  concerning  bribery.  Pieces 
of  plate,  and  bags  of  money,  were  sent  in  presents  to  the 
king’s  counsel,  to  influence  their  conduct,  and  poured 
forth,  says  a contemporary  writer,  like  billets  of  w^ood  up- 
on their  floors,  without  even  the  decency  of  concealment. 

In  such  times,  it  was  not  over  uncharitable  to  suppose, 
that  the  statesman,  practised  in  courts  of  law,  and  a pow- 
erful member  of  a triumphant  cabal,  might  find  and  use 
means  of  advantage  over  his  less  skilful  and  less  favoured 
adversary  ; and  if  it  had  been  supposed  that  Sir  William 
Ashton’s  conscience  had  been  too  delicate  to  profit  by 
these  advantages,  it  wTas  believed  that  his  ambition  and 
desire  of  extending  his  wealth  and  consequence,  found  as 
strong  a stimulus  in  the  exhortations  of  his  lady,  as  the 
daring  aim  of  Macbeth  in  the  days  of  yore. 

Lady  Ashton  was  of  a family  more  distinguished  than 
that  of  her  lord,  an  advantage  which  she  did  not  fail  to 
use  to  the  uttermost,  in  maintaining  and  extending  her 
husband’s  influence  over  others,  and,  unless  she  was 
greatly  belied,  her  own  over  him.  She  had  been  beau- 
tiful, and  was  stately  and  majestic  in  her  appearance. 
Endowed  by  nature  with  strong  powers  and  violent  pas- 
sions, experience  had  taught  her  to  employ  the  one,  and 
to  conceal,  if  not  to  moderate,  the  other.  She  was  a se- 
vere and  strict  observer  of  the  external  forms,  at  least, 
of  devotion ; her  hospitality  was  splendid  even  to  osten- 
tation ; her  address  and  manners,  agreeable  to  the  pat- 
tern most  valued  in  Scotland  at  the  period,  w^ere  grave, 
dignified,  and  severely  regulated  by  the  rules  of  etiquette. 
Her  character  had  always  been  beyond  the  breath  of 
slander.  And  yet,  with  all  these  qualities  to  excite  re- 
spect, Lady  Ashton  was  seldom  mentioned  in  the  terms  of 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  23 

love  or  affection.  Interest, — the  interest  of  her  family, 
if  not  her  own, — seemed  too  obviously  the  motive  of  her 
actions  ; and  where  this  is  the  case,  the  sharp-judging  and 
malignant  public  are  not  easily  imposed  upon  by  outward 
show.  It  was  seen  and  ascertained,  that,  in  her  most 
graceful  courtesies  and  compliments,  Lady  Ashton  no 
more  lost  sight  of  her  object  than  the  falcon  in  his  airy 
wheel  turns  his  quick  eyes  from  his  destined  quarry  ; and 
hence,  something  of  doubt  and  suspicion  qualified  the 
feelings  with  which  her  equals  received  her  attentions. 
With  her  inferiors  these  feelings  were  mingled  with  fear, 
an  impression  useful  to  her  purposes,  so  far  as  it  enforced 
ready  compliance  with  her  requests,  and  implicit  obedi- 
ence to  her  commands,  but  detrimental,  because  it  cannot 
exist  with  affection  or  regard. 

Even  her  husband,  it  is  said,  upon  whose  fortunes  her 
talents  and  address  had  produced  such  emphatic  influence, 
regarded  her  with  respectful  awre  rather  than  confiding  at- 
tachment ; and  report  said,  there  were  times  when  he 
considered  his  grandeur  as  dearly  purchased  at  the  ex- 
pense of  domestic  thraldom.  Of  this,  however  much 
might  be  suspected,  but  little  could  be  accurately  known  ; 
Lady  Ashton  regarded  the  honour  of  her  husband  as  her 
own,  and  was  well  aware  how  much  that  would  suffer  in 
the  public  eye  should  he  appear  a vassal  to  his  wife.  In 
all  her  arguments,  his  opinion  was  quoted  as  infallible  ; 
his  taste  w7as  appealed  to,  and  his  sentiments  received, 
with  the  air  of  deference  which  a dutiful  wife  might  seem 
to  owe  to  a husband  of  Sir  William  Ashton’s  rank  and 
character.  But  there  was  something  under  all  this  which 
rung  false  and  hollow  ; and  to  those  who  watched  this 
couple  with  close,  and  perhaps  malicious  scrutiny,  it  seem- 
ed evident,  that,  in  the  haughtiness  of  a firmer  character, 
higher  birth,  and  more  decided  views  of  aggrandizement, 
the  lady  looked  with  some  contempt  on  her  husband,  and 
that  he  regarded  her  with  jealous  fear,  rather  than  with 
love  or  admiration. 

Still,  however,  the  leading  and  favourite  interests  of 
Sir  William  Ashton  and  his  lady  were  the  same,  and  they 


24 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


failed  not  to  work  in  concert,  although  without  cordiality, 
and  to  testify,  in  all  exterior  circumstances,  that  respect 
for  each  other,  which  they  were  aware  was  necessary  to 
secure  that  of  the  public. 

Their  union  was  crowned  with  several  children,  of 
whom  three  survived.  One,  the  eldest  son,  was  absent 
on  his  travels  ; the  second,  a girl  of  seventeen,  and  the 
third,  a boy  about  three  years  younger,  resided  with  their 
parents  in  Edinburgh,  during  the  sessions  of  the  Scottish 
Parliament  and  Privy-council,  at  other  times  in  the  old 
Gothic  castle  of  Ravenswood,  to  which  the  Lord  Keeper, 
had  made  large  additions  in  the  style  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  the  late  proprietor  of  that 
ancient  mansion  and  the  large  estate  annexed  to  it,  con- 
tinued for  some  time  to  wage  ineffectual  war  with  his  suc- 
cessor concerning  various  points  to  which  their  former 
transactions  had  given  rise,  and  which  were  successively 
determined  in  favour  of  the  wealthy  and  powerful  com- 
petitor until  death  closed  the  litigation,  by  summoning 
Ravenswood  to  a higher  bar.  The  thread  of  life,  which 
had  been  long  wasting,  gave  way  during' a fit  of  violent 
and  impotent  fury,  with  which  he  vras  assailed  on  receiv- 
ing the  news  of  the  loss  of  a cause,  founded,  perhaps, 
rather  in  equity  than  in  law,  the  last  which  he  had  main- 
tained against  his  powerful  antagonist.  His  son  witnessed 
his  dying  agonies,  and  heard  the  curses  which  he  breath- 
ed against  his  adversary,  as  if  they  had  conveyed  to  him 
a legacy  of  vengeance.  Other  circumstances  happened 
to  exasperate  a passion,  which  was,  and  had  long  been,  a 
prevalent  vice  in  the  Scottish  disposition. 

It  was  a November  morning,  and  the  cliffs  which  over- 
looked the  ocean  were  hung  with  thick  and  heavy  mist, 
when  the  portals  of  the  ancient  and  half-ruinous  tower,  in 
which  Lord  Ravenswood  had  spent  the  last  and  troubled 
years  of  his  life,  opened,  that  his  mortal  remains  might 
pass  forward  to  an  abode  yet  more  dreary  and  lonely. 
The  pomp  of  attendance,  to  which  the  deceased  had,  in 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


25 


his  latter  years,  been  a stranger,  was  revived  as  he  was 
about  to  be  consigned  to  the  realms  of  forgetfulness. 

Banner  after  banner,  with  the  various  devices  and  coats 
of  this  ancient  family  and  its  connexions,  followed  each 
other  in  mournful  procession  from  under  the  low-browed 
archway  of  the  court-yard.  The  principal  gentry  of  the 
country  attended  in  the  deepest  mourning,  and  tempered 
the  pace  of  their  long  train  of  horses  to  the  solemn  march 
befitting  the  occasion.  Trumpets,  with  banners  of  crape 
attached  to  them,  sent  forth  their  long  and  melancholy 
notes  to  regulate  the  movements  of  the  procession.  An 
immense  train  of  inferior  mourners  and  menials  closed  the 
rear,  which  had  not  yet  issued  from  the  castle-gate,  when 
the  van  had  reached  the  chapel  where  the  body  was  to 
be  deposited. 

Contrary  to  the  custom,  and  even  to  the  law  of  the 
time,  the  body  was  met  by  a priest  of  the  Episcopal  com- 
munion, arrayed  in  his  surplice,  and  prepared  to  read  over 
the  coffin  of  the  deceased  the  funeral  service  of  the  church. 
Such  had  been  the  desire  of  Lord  Ravenswood  in  his  last 
illness,  and  it  was  readily  complied  with  by  the  tory  gen- 
tlemen, or  cavaliers,  as  they  affected  to  style  themselves, 
in  which  faction  most  of  his  kinsmen  were  enrolled.  The 
presbyterian  church-judicatory  of  the  bounds,  considering 
the  ceremony  as  a bravading  insult  upon  their  authority, 
had  applied  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  as  the  nearest  privy- 
counsellor,  for  a warrant  to  prevent  its  being  carried  into 
effect  ; so  that,  when  the  clergyman  had  opened  his 
prayer-book,  an  officer  of  the  law,  supported  by  some 
armed  men,  commanded  him  to  be  silent.  An  insult, 
which  fired  the  whole  assembly  with  indignation,  was  par- 
ticularly and  instantly  resented  by  the  only  son  of  the  de- 
ceased, Edgar,  popularly  called  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood, a youth  of  about  twenty  years  of  age.  He  clap- 
ped his  hand  on  his  sword,  and,  bidding  the  official  person 
to  desist  at  his  peril  from  further  interruption,  commanded 
the  clergyman  to  proceed.  The  man  attempted  to  enforce 
his  commission,  but  as  an  hundred  swords  at  once  glitter- 
3 VOL.  I. 


2G 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ed  in  the  air,  he  contented  himself  with  protesting  against 
the  violence  which  had  been  offered  to  him  in  the  execu- 
tion of  his  duty,  and  stood  aloof,  a sullen  and  moody 
spectator  of  the  ceremonial,  muttering  as  one  who  should 
say,  “ You’ll  rue  the  day  that  clogs  me  with  this  answer.” 

The  scene  was  worthy  of  an  artist’s  pencil.  Under  the 
very  arch  of  the  house  of  death,  the  clergyman,  affright- 
ed at  the  scene,  and  trembling  for  his  own  safety,  hastily 
and  unwillingly  rehearsed  the  solemn  service  of  the 
church,  and  spoke  dust  to  dust,  and  ashes  to  ashes,  over 
ruined  pride  and  decayed  prosperity.  Around  stood  the 
relations  of  the  deceased,  their  countenances  more  in  an- 
ger than  in  sorrow,  and  the  drawn  swords  which  they 
brandished  forming  a violent  contrast  with  their  deep 
mourning  habits.  In  the  countenance  of  the  young  man 
alone,  resentment  seemed  for  the  moment  overpowered 
by  the  deep  agony  with  which  he  beheld  his  nearest,  and 
almost  his  only  friend,  consigned  to  the  tomb  of  his  an- 
cestry. A relative  observed  him  turn  deadly  pale,  when, 
all  rites  being  nowT  duly  observed,  it  became  the  duty  of 
the  chief  mourner  to  lower  dowm  into  the  charnel  vault, 
where  mouldering  coffins  showed  their  tattered  velvet  and 
decayed  plating,  the  head  of  the  corpse  which  was  to  be 
their  partner  in  corruption.  He  stept  to  the  youth  and 
offered  his  assistance,  which,  by  a mute  motion,  Edgar 
Ravenswood  rejected.  Firmly,  and  without  a tear,  he 
performed  that  last  duty.  The  stone  was  laid  on  the  sep- 
ulchre, the  door  of  the  aisle  was  locked,  and  the  youth 
took  possession  of  its  massive  key. 

As  the  crowTd  left  the  chapel,  he  paused  on  the  steps 
which  led  to  its  Gothic  chancel.  “ Gentlemen  and 
friends,”  he  said,  “ you  have  this  day  done  no  common 
duty  to  the  body  of  your  deceased  kinsman.  The  rites 
of  due  observance,  which,  in  other  countries,  are  allowed 
as  the  due  of  the  meanest  Christian,  would  this  day  have 
been  denied  to  the  body  of  your  relative — not  certainly 
sprung  of  the  meanest  house  in  Scotland — had  it  not  been 
assured  to  him  by  your  courage.  Others  bury  their  dead 
in  sorrow  and  tears,  in  silence  and  in  reverence  ; our 


THE  IS  HIDE  OF  L.LMMERMOOR, 


27 


funeral  rites  are  marred  by  the  intrusion  of  bailiffs  and 
ruffians,  and  our  grief — the  grief  due  to  our  departed 
friend — is  chased  from  our  cheeks  by  the  glow  of  just  in- 
dignation. But  it  is  well  that  I know  from  what  quiver 
this  arrow  has  come  forth.  It  was  only  he  that  dug  the 
grave  who  could  have  the  mean  cruelty  to  disturb  the 
obsequies  ; and  Heaven  do  as  much  to  me  and  more,  if 
I requite  not  to  this  man  and  his  house  the  ruin  a,nd  dis- 
grace he  has  brought  on  me  and  mine.” 

A numerous  part  of  the  assembly  applauded  this  speech, 
as  the  spirited  expression  of  just  resentment  ; but  the 
more  cool  and  judicious  regretted  that  it  had  been  uttered. 
The  fortunes  of  the  heir  of  Ravenswood  were  too  low  to 
brave  the  farther  hostility  which  they  imagined  these  open 
expressions  of  resentment  must  necessarily  provoke. 
Their  apprehensions,  however,  proved  groundless,  at  least 
in  the  immediate  consequences  of  this  affair. 

The  mourners  returned  to  the  tower,  there,  according 
to  a custom  but  recently  abolished  in  Scotland,  to  carouse 
deep  healths  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  to  make  the 
house  of  sorrow  ring  with  sounds  of  joviality  and  debauch, 
and  to  diminish,  by  the  expense  of  a large  and  profuse 
entertainment,  the  limited  revenues  of  the  heir  of  him 
whose  funeral  they  thus  strangely  honoured.  It  was  the 
custom,  however,  and  on  the  present  occasion  it  was  fully 
observed.  The  tables  swam  in  wine,  the  populace  feast- 
ed in  the  court-yard,  the  yeomen  in  the  kitchen  and  but- 
tery, and  two  years’  rent  of  Ravenswood’s  remaining 
property  hardly  defrayed  the  charge  of  the  funeral  revel. 
The  wine  did  its  office  on  all  but  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood, a title  which  he  still  retained,  though  forfeiture  had 
attached  to  that  of  his  father.  He,  while  passing  around 
the  cup  which  he  himself  did  not  taste,  soon  listened  to  a 
thousand  exclamations  against  the  Lord  Keeper,  and  pas- 
sionate protestations  of  attachment  to  himself,  and  to  the 
honour  of  his  house.  He  listened  with  dark  and  sullen 
brow  to  ebullitions  which  he  considered  justly  as  equally 
evanescent  with  the  crimson  bubbles  on  the  brink  of  the 


28 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


goblet,  or  at  least  with  the  vapours  which  its  contents  ex- 
cited in  the  brains  of  the  revellers  around  him. 

When  the  last  flask  was  emptied,  they  took  their  leave, 
with  deep  protestations — to  be  forgotten  on  the  morrow, 
if,  indeed,  those  who  made  them  should  not  think  it  neces- 
sary for  their  safety  to  make  a more  solemn  retractation. 

Accepting  their  adieus  with  an  air  of  contempt  which 
he  could  scarce  conceal,  Ravenswood  at  length  beheld 
his  ruinous  habitation  cleared  of  this  confluence  of  riotous 
guests,  and  returned  to  the  deserted  hall,  which  now  ap- 
peared doubly  lonely,  from  the  cessation  of  that  clamour 
to  which  it  had  so  lately  echoed.  But  its  space  was  peo- 
pled by  phantoms,  which  the  imagination  of  the  young 
heir  conjured  up  before  him — the  tarnished  honour  and 
degraded  fortunes  of  his  house,  the  destruction  of  his  own 
hopes,  and  the  triumph  of  that  family  by  whom  they  had 
been  ruined.  To  a mind  naturally  of  a gloomy  cast,  here 
was  ample  room  for  meditation,  and  the  musings  of  young 
Ravenswrood  were  deep  and  unwitnessed. 

The  peasant,  who  showTs  the  ruins  of  the  tower,  which 
still  crown  the  beetling  cliff  and  behold  the  war  of  the 
waves,  though  no  more  tenanted  save  by  the  sea-mew  and 
cormorant,  even  yet  affirms,  that  on  this  fatal  night  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood,  by  the  bitter  exclamations  of  his 
despair,  evoked  some  evil  fiend,  under  whose  malignant 
influence  the  future  tissue  of  incidents  was  woven.  Alas  ! 
what  fiend  can  suggest  more  desperate  counsels,  than 
those  adopted  under  the  guidance  of  our  own  violent  and 
unresisted  passions 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


29 


CHAPTER  III. 

Over  Gods  forebode,  then,  said  the  King1, 

That  thou  shouldst  shoot  at  me. 

William  Bell,  Clim  o’  the  Cleugh,  Sfc, 

On  the  morning  after  the  funeral,  the  legal  officer, 
whose  authority  had  been  found  insufficient  to  effect  an 
interruption  of  the  funeral  solemnities  of  the  late  Lord 
Ravenswood,  hastened  to  state  before  the  Keeper  the 
interruption  which  he  had  received  in  the  execution  of 
his  office. 

The  statesman  was  seated  in  a spacious  library,  once 
a bancjuetting-room  in  the  old  Castle  of  Ravenswood,  as 
was  evident  from  the  armorial  insignia  still  displayed  on 
the  carved  roof,  which  was  vaulted  with  Spanish  chesnut, 
and  on  the  stained  glass  of  the  casement,  through  which 
gleamed  a dim  yet  rich  light,  on  the  long  rows  of  shelves, 
bending  under  the  weight  of  legal  commentators  and  monk- 
ish historians,  whose  ponderous  volumes  formed  the  chief 
and  most  valued  contents  of  a Scottish  library  of  the 
period.  On  the  massive  oaken  table  and  reading-desk, 
lay  a confused  mass  of  letters,  petitions,  and  parchments  ; 
to  toil  amongst  which  was  the  pleasure  at  once  and  the 
plague  of  Sir  William  Ashton’s  life.  His  appearance 
was  grave  and  even  noble,  well  becoming  one  who  held 
a high  office  in  the  state  ; and  it  was  not,  save  after  long 
and  intimate  conversation  with  him  upon  topics  of  press- 
ing and  personal  interest,  that  a stranger  could  have  dis- 
covered something  vacillating  and  uncertain  in  his  resolu- 
tions ; an  infirmity  of  purpose,  arising  from  a cautious 
and  timid  disposition,  which,  as  he  was  conscious  of  its 
internal  influence  on  his  mind,  he  was,  from  pride  as  well 
as  policy,  most  anxious  to  conceal  from  others. 

He  listened  with  great  apparent  composure  to  an  ex- 
aggerated account  of  the  tumult  which  had  taken  place 
3*  VOL.  I. 


30 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


at  the  funeral,  of  the  contempt  thrown  on  his  own  au- 
thority, and  that  of  the  church  and  state  ; nor  did  he 
seem  moved  even  by  the  faithful  report  of  the  insulting 
and  threatening  language  which  had  been  uttered  by 
young  Ravenswood  and  others,  and  obviously  directed 
against  himself.  He  heard,  also,  what  the  man  had  been 
able  to  collect,  in  a very  distorted  and  aggravated  shape, 
of  the  toasts  which  had  been  drunk,  and  the  menaces 
uttered  at  the  subsequent  entertainment.  In  fine,  he 
made  careful  notes  of  all  these  particulars,  and  of  the 
names  of  the  persons  by  whom,  in  case  of  need,  an  ac- 
cusation, founded  upon  these  violent  proceedings,  could 
be  witnessed  and  made  good,  and  dismissed  his  informer, 
secure  that  he  was  now  master  of  the  remaining  fortune, 
and  even  of  the  personal  liberty,  of  young  Ravenswood. 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  the  officer  of  the  law, 
the  Lord  Keeper  remained  for  a moment  in  deep  medita- 
tion ; then,  starting  from  his  seat,  paced  the  apartment  as 
one  about  to  take  a sudden  and  energetic  resolution. 
“ Young  Ravenswood,”  he  muttered,  “ is  now  mine — 
he  is  my  own— he  has  placed  himself  in  my  hand,  and 
he  shall  bend  or  break.  I have  not  forgot  the  determin- 
ed and  dogged  obstinacy  with  which  his  father  fought 
every  point  to  the  last,  resisted  every  effort  at  compromise, 
embroiled  me  in  law-suits,  and  attempted  to  assail  my 
character  when  he  could  not  otherwise  impugn  my  rights. 
This  boy  he  has  left  behind  him — this  Edgar — this  hot- 
headed, hair-brained  fool,  has  wrecked  his  vessel  before 
she  has  cleared  the  harbour.  I must  see  that  he  gains  no 
advantage  of  some  turning  tide  which  may  again  float 
him  off.  These  memoranda,  properly  stated  to  the 
Privy-council,  cannot  but  be  construed  into  an  aggravat- 
ed riot,  in  which  the  dignity  both  of  the  civil  and  eccle^ 
siastical  authorities  stands  committed.  A heavy  fine  might 
be  imposed  ; an  order  for  committing  him  to  Edinburgh 
or  Blackness  Castle  seems  not  improper ! even  a charge 
of  treason  might  be  laid  on  many  of  these  words  and  ex- 
pressions, though  God  forbid  I should  prosecute  the  mat- 
ter to  that  extent.  No,  I will  not  ; — I will  not  touch  his 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


31 


life,  even  if  it  should  be  in  my  power  ; — and  yet,  if  he 
lives  till  a change  of  times,  what  follows  °l — Restitution — 
perhaps  revenge.  I know  Athole  promised  his  interest 
to  old  Ravenswood,  and  here  is  his  son  already  bandying 
and  making  a faction  by  his  own  contemptible  influence. 
What  a ready  tool  he  would  be  for  the  use  of  those  who 
are  watching  the  downfall  of  our  administration  VJ 

While  these  thoughts  were  agitating  the  mind  of  the 
wily  statesman,  and  while  he  was  persuading  himself  that 
his  own  interest  and  safety,  as  well  as  those  of  his  friends 
and  party,  depended  on  using  the  present  advantage  to 
the  uttermost  against  young  Ravenswood,  the  Lord  Keep- 
er sat  down  to  his  desk,  and  proceeded  to  draw  up,  for 
the  information  of  the  Privy-council,  an  account  of  the 
disorderly  proceedings  which,  in  contempt  of  his  warrant, 
had  taken  place  at  the  funeral  of  Lord  Ravenswood. 
The  names  of  most  of  the  parties  concerned,  as  well  as 
the  fact  itself,  would,  he  was  well  aware,  sound  odiously 
in  the  ears  of  his  colleagues  in  administration,  and  most 
likely  instigate  them  to  make  an  axample  of  young  Rav- 
enswood at  least,  in  terrorem . 

It  was  a point  of  delicacy,  however,  to  select  such  ex- 
pressions as  might  infer  his  culpability,  without  seeming 
directly  to  urge  it,  which,  on  the  part  of  Sir  William 
Ashton,  his  father’s  ancient  antagonist,  could  not  but  ap- 
pear odious  and  invidious.  While  he  was  in  the  act  of 
composition,  labouring  to  find  words  which  might  indicate 
Edgar  Ravenswood  to  be  the  cause  of  the  uproar,  with- 
out directly  urging  the  charge,  Sir  William,  in  a pause  of 
his  task,  chanced,  in  looking  upward,  to  see  the  crest  of 
the  family  (for  whose  heir  he  was  whetting  the  arrows, 
and  disposing  the  toils  of  the  law,)  carved  upon  one  of 
the  corbeilles  from  which  the  vaulted  roof  of  the  apart- 
ment sprung.  It  was  a black  bull’s  head,  with  the 
legend,  “ I bide  my  time  and  the  occasion  upon 
which  it  was  adopted  mingled  itself  singularly  and  im- 
pressively with  the  subject  of  his  present  reflections. 

It  was  said  by  a constant  tradition,  that  a Malisius  de 
Ravenswood  had,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  been  depriv- 


32 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ed  of  his  castle  and  lands  by  a powerful  usurper,  who 
had  for  a while  enjoyed  his  spoils  in  quiet.  At  length,  on 
the  eve  of  a costly  banquet,  Ravenswood,  who  had 
watched  his  opportunity,  introduced  himself  into  the  cas- 
tle with  a small  band  of  faithful  retainers.  The  serving 
of  the  expected  feast  was  impatiently  looked  for  by  the 
guests  and,  clamorously  demanded  by  the  temporary 
master  of  the  castle.  Ravenswood,  who  had  assumed 
the  disguise  of  a sewer  upon  the  occasion,  answered,  in 
a stern  voice,  “ I bide  my  time  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment a bull’s  head,  the  ancient  symbol  of  death,  was 
placed  upon  the  table.  The  explosion  of  the  conspiracy 
took  place  upon  the  signal,  and  the  usurper  and  his  fol- 
lowers were  put  to  death.  Perhaps  there  was  something 
in  this  still  known  and  often  repeated  story,  which  came 
immediately  home  to  the  breast  and  conscience  of  the 
Lord  Keeper  ; for,  putting  from  him  the  paper  on  which 
he  had  begun  his  report,  and  carefully  locking  the  memo- 
randa which  he  had  prepared,  into  a cabinet  which  stood 
beside  him,  he  proceeded  to  walk  abroad,  as  if  for  the 
purpose  of  collecting  his  ideas,  and  reflecting  farther  on 
the  consequences  of  the  step  which  he  was  about  to  take, 
ere  yet  they  became  unavoidable. 

In  passing  through  a large  Gothic  anti-room,  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton  heard  the  sound  of  his  daughter’s  lute. 
Music,  when  the  performers  are  concealed,  affects  us 
with  a pleasure  mingled  with  surprise,  and  reminds  us  of 
the  natural  concert  of  birds  among  the  leafy  bowers. 
The  statesman,  though  little  accustomed  to  give  way  to 
emotions  of  this  natural  and  simple  class,  was  still  a man 
and  a father.  He  stopped,  therefore,  and  listened,  while 
the  silver  tones  of  Lucy  Ashton’s  voice  mingled  with  the 
accompaniment  in  an  ancient  air,  to  which  some  one  had 
adapted  the  following  words  : — 

“ Look  not  thou  on  beauty’s  charming, — 

Sit  thou  still  when  kings  are  arming, — 

Taste  not  when  the  wine-cup  glistens, — 

Speak  not  when  the  people  listens, — 

Stop  thine  ear  against  the  singer, — 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR.  33 

From  the  red  gold  keep  thy  finger, — 

Vacant  heart,  and  hand,  and  eye, — 

Easy  live  and  quiet  die.” 

The  sounds  ceased,  and  the  Keeper  entered  his  daugh- 
ter’s apartment. 

The  words  she  had  chosen  seemed  particularly  adapt- 
ed to  her  character  ; for  Lucy  Ashton’s  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful, yet  somewhat  girlish  features,  Were  formed  to  ex- 
press peace  of  mind,  serenity,  and  indifference  to  the 
tinsel  of  worldly  pleasure.  Her  locks,  which  wTere  of 
shadowy  gold,  divided  on  a brow  of  exquisite  whiteness, 
like  a gleam  of  broken  and  pallid  sunshine  upon  a hill  of 
snow.  The  expression  of  the  countenance  was  in  the 
last  degree  gentle,  soft,  timid,  and  feminine,  and  seemed 
rather  to  shrink  from  the  most  casual  look  of  a stranger, 
than  to  court  his  admiration.  Something  there  was  of  a 
Madonna  cast,  perhaps  the  result  of  delicate  health,  and 
of  residence  in  a family,  where  the  dispositions  of  the 
inmates  were  fiercer,  more  active,  and  energetic,  than 
her  own. 

Yet  her  passiveness  of  disposition  was  by  no  means 
owing  to  an  indifferent  or  unfeeling  mind.  Left  to  the 
impulse  of  her  own  taste  and  feelings,  Lucy  Ashton  was 
peculiarly  accessible  to  those  of  a romantic  cast.  Her 
secret  delight  was  in  the  old  legendary  tales  of  ardent 
devotion  and  unalterable  affection,  chequered  as  they  so 
often  are  with  strange  adventures  and  supernatural  hor- 
rors. This  was  her  favoured  fairy  realm,  and  here  she 
erected  her  aerial  palaces.  But  it  was  only  in  secret 
that  she  laboured  at  this  delusive,  though  delightful  archi- 
tecture. In  her  retired  chamber,  or  in  the  woodland 
bower  which  she  had  chosen  for  her  own,  and  called  after 
her  name,  she  was  in  fancy  distributing  the  prizes  at  the 
tournament,  or  raining  down  influence  from  her  eyes  on 
the  valiant  combatants ; or  she  was  wandering  in  the 
wilderness  with  Una  ; or  she  was  identifying  herself  with 
the  simple,  yet  noble-minded  Miranda,  in  the  isle  of  won- 
der and  enchantment. 

But  in  her  exterior  relations  to  things  of  this  world, 


34 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Lucy  willingly  received  the  ruling  impulse  from  those 
around  her.  The  alternative  was,  in  general,  too  indif- 
ferent to  her  to  render  resistance  desirable,  and  she  wil- 
lingly found  a motive  for  decision  in  the  opinion  of  her 
friends,  which  perhaps  she  might  have  sought  for  in  vain 
in  her  own  choice.  Every  reader  must  have  observed  in 
some  family  of  his  acquaintance,  some  individual  of  a 
temper  soft  and  yielding,  who,  mixed  with  stronger  and 
more  ardent  minds,  is  borne  along  by  the  will  of  others, 
with  as  little  power  of  opposition  as  the  flower  which  is 
flung  into  a running  stream.  It  usually  happens  that  such 
a compliant  and  easy  disposition,  which  resigns  itself 
without  murmur  to  the  guidance  of  others,  becomes  the 
darling  of  those  to  whose  inclinations  its  own  seem  to  be 
offered,  in  ungrudging  and  ready  sacrifice. 

This  was  eminently  the  case  with  Lucy  Ashton.  Her 
politic,  wary,  and  worldly  father,  felt  for  her  an  affection, 
the  strength  of  which  sometimes  surprised  him  into  an 
unusual  emotion.  Her  elder  brother,  who  trode  the  path 
of  ambition  with  a haughtier  step  than  his  father,  had  also 
more  of  human  affection.  A soldier,  and  in  a dissolute 
age,  he  preferred  his  sister  Lucy  even  to  pleasure,  and  to 
military  preferment  and  distinction.  Her  younger  broth- 
er, at  an  age  when  trifles  chiefly  occupied  his  mind,  made 
her  the  confidante  of  all  his  pleasures  and  anxieties,  his 
success  in  field-sports,  and  his  quarrels  with  his  tutor  and 
instructers.  To  these  details,  however  trivial,  Lucy  lent 
patient  and  not  indifferent  attention.  They  moved  and 
interested  Henry,  and  that  was  enough  to  secure  her  ear. 

Her  mother  alone  did  not  feel  that  distinguished  and 
predominating  affection,  with  which  the  rest  of  the  fami- 
ly cherished  Lucy.  She  regarded  what  she  termed  her 
daughter’s  want  of  spirit,  as  a decided  mark,  that  the 
more  plebeian  blood  of  her  father  predominated  in  Lucy’s 
veins,  and  used  to  call  her  in  derision  her  Lammermoor 
Shepherdess.  To  dislike  so  gentle  and  inoffensive  a 
being  was  impossible  ; but  Lady  Ashton  preferred  her 
eldest  son,  on  whom  had  descended  a large  portion  of 
her  own  ambitious  and  undaunted  disposition,  to  a daugh- 


TIIE  BRIDE  OE  IAMMERMOOR. 


35 


ter  whose  softness  of  temper  seemed  allied  to  feebleness 
of  mind.  Her  eldest  son  was  the  more  partially  beloved 
by  his  mother,  because,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom  of 
Scottish  families  of  distinction,  he  had  been  named  after 
the  head  of  the  house. 

“ My  Sholto,”  she  said,  “ will  support  the  untarnished 
honour  of  his  maternal  house,  and  elevate  and  support 
that  of  his  father.  Poor  Lucy  is  unfit  for  courts,  or 
crowded  halls.  Some  country  laird  must  be  her  husband, 
rich  enough  to  supply  her  with  every  comfort,  without 
an  effort  on  her  own  part,  so  that  she  may  have  nothing 
to  shed  a tear  for  but  the  tender  apprehension  lest  he  may 
break  his  neck  in  a fox-chase.  It  was  not  so,  however, 
that  our  house  was  raised,  nor  is  it  so  that  it  can  be  forti- 
fied and  augmented.  The  Lord  Keeper’s  dignity  is  yet 
new  ; it  must  be  borne  as  if  we  were  used  to  its  weight, 
worthy  of  it,  and  prompt  to  assert  and  maintain  it.  Be- 
fore ancient  authorities,  men  bend  from  customary  and 
hereditary  deference  ; in  our  presence,  they  will  stand 
erect,  unless  they  are  compelled  to  prostrate  themselves. 
A daughter  fit  for  the  sheep-fold,  or  the  cloister,  is  ill 
qualified  to  exact  respect  where  it  is  yielded  with  reluc- 
tance ; and  since  Heaven  refused  us  a third  boy,  Lucy 
should  have  held  a character  fit  to  supply  his  place.  The 
hour  will  be  a happy  one  which  disposes  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage to  some  one  whose  energy  is  greater  than  her  own, 
or  whose  ambition  is  of  as  low  an  order.” 

So  meditated  a mother,  to  whom  the  qualities  of  her 
children’s  hearts,  as  well  as  the  prospect  of  their  domes- 
tic happiness,  seemed  light  in  comparison  to  their  rank 
and  temporal  greatness.  But,  like  many  a parent  of  hot 
and  impatient  character,  she  was  mistaken  in  estimating 
the  feelings  of  her  daughter,  who,  under  a semblance  of 
extreme  indifference,  nourished  the  germ  of  those  pas- 
sions which  sometimes  spring  up  in  one  night,  like  the 
gourd  of  the  prophet,  and  astonish  the  observer  by  their 
unexpected  ardour  and  intensity.  In  fact,  Lucy’s  senti- 
ments seemed  chill,  because  nothing  had  occurred  to  in- 
terest or  awaken  them.  Her  life  had  hitherto  flowed  on 


36 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


in  a uniform  2nd  gentle  tenor,  and  happy  for  her  had  not 
its  present  smoothness  of  current  resembled  that  of  the 
stream  as  it  glides  downwards  to  the  waterfall  ! 

“ So,  Lucy,”  said  her  father,  entering  as  her  song 
was  ended,  “ does  your  musical  philosopher  teach  you 
to  contemn  the  world  before  you  know  it  9 — that  is  sure- 
ly something  premature. — Or  did  you  but  speak  accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  fair  maidens,  who  are  always  to  hold 
the  pleasures  of  life  in  contempt  till  they  are  pressed 
upon  them  by  the  address  of  some  gentle  knight  9” 

Lucy  blushed,  disclaimed  any  inference  respecting  her 
own  choice  being  drawn  from  her  selection  of  a song, 
and  readily  laid  aside  her  instrument  at  her  father’s  re- 
quest that  she  would  attend  him  in  his  walk. 

A large  and  well  wooded  park,  or  rather  chase,  stretch- 
ed along  the  hill  behind  the  castle,  which  occupying,  as 
we  have  noticed,  a pass  ascending  from  the  plain,  seemed 
built  in  its  very  gorge  to  defend  the  forest  ground  which 
arose  behind  it  in  shaggy  majesty.  Into  this  romantic 
region  the  father  and  daughter  proceeded,  arm  in  arm, 
by  a noble  avenue  overarched  by  embowering  elms,  be- 
neath which  groups  of  the  fallow-deer  were  seen  to  stray 
in  distant  perspective.  As  they  paced  slowly  on,  admir- 
ing the  different  points  of  view,  for  which  Sir  William 
Ashton, notwithstanding  the  nature  of  his  usual  avocations, 
had  considerable  taste  and  feeling,  they  w7ere  overtaken 
by  the  forester,  or  park-keeper,  who,  intent  on  sylvan 
sport,  was  proceeding  with  his  cross-bow  over  his  arm, 
and  a hound  led  in  leash  by  his  boy,  into  the  interior  of 
the  wood. 

“ Going  to  shoot  us  a piece  of  venison,  Norman  9” 
said  his  master,  as  he  returned  the  woodman’s  salutation. 

“ Saul,  your  honour,  and  that  I am.  Will  it  please 
you  to  see  the  sport  9” 

“ O no,”  said  his  lordship,  after  looking  at  his  daugh- 
ter, whose  colour  fled  at  the  idea  of  seeing  the  deer  shot, 
although  had  her  father  expressed  his  wish  that  they 
should  accompany  Norman,  it  was  probable  she  would 
not  even  have  hinted  her  reluctance. 


THE  BRIBE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


37 


The  forester  shrugged  his  shoulders.  “ It  was  a dis- 
hearting  thing,”  he  said,  “ when  none  of  the  gentles 
came  down  to  see  the  sport.  He  hoped  Mr.  Sholto 
would  be  soon  hame,  or  he  might  shut  up  his  shop  entire- 
ly ; for  Mr.  Harry  was  kept  sae  close  wi’  his  Latin  non- 
sense, that,  though  his  will  was  very  gude  to  be  in  the 
wood  from  morning  till  night,  there  would  he  a hopeful 
lad  lost,  and  no  making  a man  of  him.  It  was  not  so, 
he  had  heard,  in  Lord  Ravenswood’s  time — when  a buck 
was  to  be  killed,  man  and  mother’s  son  ran  to  see  ; and 
when  the  deer  fell,  the  knife  was  always  presented  to  the 
knight,  and  he  never  gave  less  than  a dollar  for  the  com- 
pliment. And  there  was  Edgar  Ravenswood — Master  of 
Ravenswood  that  is  now — when  he  goes  up  to  the  wood 
— there  hasna  been  a better  hunter  since  Tristrem’s  time 
— when  Sir  Edgar  hauds  out,  down  goes  the  deer,  faith. 
But  we  hae  lost  a’  sense  of  wood-craft  on  this  side  of  the 
hill.” 

There  was  much  in  this  harangue  highly  displeasing  to 
the  Lord  Keeper’s  feelings  ; he  could  not  help  observing 
that  his  menial  despised  him  almost  avowedly  for  not  pos- 
sessing that  taste  for  sport,  which  in  these  times  was 
deemed  the  natural  and  indispensable  attribute  of  a real 
gentleman.  But  the  master  of  the  game  is,  in  all  coun- 
try houses,  a man  of  great  importance,  and  entitled  to 
use  considerable  freedom  of  speech.  Sir  William,  there- 
fore only  smiled  and  replied,  he  had  something  else  to 
think  upon  to-day  than  killing  deer  ; meantime,  taking  out 
his  purse,  he  gave  the  ranger  a dollar  for  his  encourage- 
ment. The  fellow  received  it  as  the  waiter  of  a fashion- 
able hotel  receives  double  his  proper  fee  from  the  hands 
of  a country  gentleman, — that  is,  with  a smile,  in  which 
pleasure  at  the  gift  is  mingled  with  contempt  for  the  igno- 
rance of  the  donor.  “ Your  honour  is  the  bad  paymas- 
ter,” he  said,  “ who  pays  before  it  is  done.  What  would 
you  do  were  I to  miss  the  buck  after  yop  have  paid  me 
my  wood-fee  ?” 

4 VOL.  i. 


38 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ I suppose,”  said  the  Keeper,  smiling,  “ you  would 
hardly  guess  what  I mean  were  I to  tell  you  of  a conditio 
indebit  ?” 

“ Not  I,  on  my  soul — I guess  it  is  some  law  phrase — 
but  sue  a beggar,  and — your  honour  knows  what  follows. 
— Well,  but  I will  be  just  with  you,  and  if  bow  and  brach 
fail  not,  you  shall  have  a piece  of  game  two  fingers  fat 
on  the  brisket.” 

As  he  was  about  to  go  off,  his  master  again  called  him, 
and  asked,  as  if  by  accident,  whether  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood  was  actually  so  brave  a man  and  so  good  a 
shooter  as  the  world  spoke  him  °l 

“ Brave  ! — brave  enough,  I warrant  you,”  answered 
Norman  ; “ 1 was  in  the  wood  at  Tyninghame,  when 
there  was  a sort  of  gallants  hunting  with  my  lord  ; on 
my  said,  there  was  a buck  turned  to  bay  made  us  all 
stand  back  ; a stout  old  Trojan  of  the  first-head,  ten- 
tynd  branches,  and  a brow  as  broad  as  e’er  a bullock’s. 
Egad,  he  dashed  at  the  old  lord,  and  there  would  have 
been  inlake  among  the  peerage,  if  the  Master  had  not 
whipt  roundly  in,  and  hamstrung  him  with  his  cutlass. 
He  was  but  sixteen  then,  bless  his  heart  !” 

“ And  is  he  as  ready  with  the  gun  as  with  the  couteau  ?” 
said  Sir  William. 

“ He’ll  strike  this  silver  dollar  out  from  between  my 
finger  and  thumb  at  fourscore  yards,  and  I’ll  hold  it  out 
for  a gold  merk  ; what  more  would  ye  have  of  eye,  hand, 
lead,  and  gunpowder 

“ O no  more  to  be  wished,  certainly,”  said  the  Lord 
Keeper  ; “ but  we  keep  you  from  your  sport,  Norman. 
Good  morrow,  good  Norman.” 

And  humming  his  rustic  roundelay,  the  yeoman  went 
on  his  road,  the  sound  of  his  rough  voice  gradually  dying 
away  as  the  distance  betwixt  them  increased  : 

The  Monk  must  arise  when  the  matins  ring, 

The  Abbot  may  sleep  to  their  chime  ; 

But  the  yeoman  must  start  when  the  bugles  sing, 

;Tis  time,  my  hearts,  ’tis  time. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


39 


There's  bucks  and  raes  on  Bilhope  braes, 

There's  a herd  on  Shortwood  Shaw  ; 

But  a lily  white  doe  in  the  garden  goes, 

She’s  fairly  worth  them  a’. 

44  Has  this  fellow,’7  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  when  the 
yeoman’s  song  had  died  on  the  wind,  44  ever  served  the 
Ravenswood  people,  that  he  seems  so  much  interested  in 
them  9 I suppose  you  know,  Lucy,  for  you  make  it  a 
point  of  conscience  to  record  the  special  history  of  every 
boor  about  the  castle.” 

44  I am  not  quite  so  faithful  a chronicler,  my  dear 
father ; but  I believe  that  Norman  once  served  here 
while  a boy,  and  before  he  went  to  Ledington,  whence  you 
hired  him.  But  if  you  want  to  know  anything  of  the 
former  family,  Old  Alice  is  the  best  authority.” 

44  And  what  should  I have  to  do  with  them,  pray, 
Lucy,”  said  her  father,  44  or  with  their  history  or  accom- 
plishments 9” 

44  Nay,  I do  not  know,  sir  ; only  that  you  were  asking 
questions  at  Norman  about  young  Ravenswood.” 

44  Pshaw,  child  !” — replied  her  father,  yet  immediate- 
ly added,  44  And  who  is  old  Alice  9 I think  you  know  all 
the  old  women  in  the  country.” 

44  To  be  sure  I do,  or  how  could  I help  the  old  crea- 
tures when  they  are  in  hard  times  9 And  as  to  old  Alice, 
she  is  the  very  empress  of  old  women,  and  queen  of 
gossips,  so  far  as  legendary  lore  is  concerned.  She  is 
blind,  poor  old  soul,  but  when  she  speaks  to  you,  you 
would  think  she  has  some  way  of  looking  into  your  very 
heart.  I am  sure  I often  cover  my  face,  or  turn  it  away, 
for  it  seems  as  if  she  saw  one  change  colour,  though  she 
has  been  blind  these  twenty  years.  She  is  worth  visiting, 
were  it  but  to  say  you  have  seen  a blind  and  paralytic  old 
woman  have  so  much  acuteness  of  perception,  and  digni- 
ty of  manners.  I assure  you,  she  might  be  a countess 
from  her  language  and  behaviour. — Come,  you  must  go 
to  see  Alice  ; we  are  not  a quarter  of  a mile  from  her 
cottage.” 

44  All  this,  my  dear,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  44  is  no 


40 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


answer  to  my  question,  who  this  woman  is,  and  what  is 
her  connection  with  the  former  proprietor’s  family  9” 

“ O,  it  was  something  of  a nourice-ship,  I believe  ; 
and  she  remained  here,  because  her  two  grandsons  were 
engaged  in  your  service.  But  it  was  against  her  will,  I 
fancy  ; for  the  poor  old  creature  is  always  regretting  the 
change  of  times  and  of  property.” 

“ I am  much  obliged  to  her,”  answered  the  Lord 
Keeper.  “ She  and  her  folks  eat  my  bread  and  drink 
my  cup,  and  are  lamenting  all  the  while  that  they  are  not 
still  under  a family  which  never  could  do  good,  either  to 
themselves  or  any  one  else.” 

“ Indeed,”  replied  Lucy,  “ 1 am  certain  you  do  old 
Alice  injustice.  She  has  nothing  mercenary  about  her, 
and  would  not  accept  a penny  in  charity,  if  it  were  to 
save  her  from  being  starved.  She  is  only  talkative,  like 
all  old  folks,  when  you  put  them  upon  stories  of  their 
youth  ; and  she  speaks  about  the  Ravenswood  people, 
because  she  lived  under  them  so  many  years.  But  I am 
sure  she  is  grateful  to  you,  sir,  for  your  protection,  and 
that  she  would  rather  speak  to  you,  than  to  any  other 
person  in  the  whole  world  beside.  Do,  sir,  come  and  see 
old  Alice.” 

And  with  the  freedom  of  an  indulged  daughter,  she 
dragged  the  Lord  Keeper  in  the  direction  she  desired. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Through  tops  of  the  high  trees  she  did  descry 
A little  smoke,  whose  vapour,  thin,  and  light, 

Reeking  aloft,  uprolled  to  the  sky, 

Which  cheerful  sign  did  send  unto  her  sight, 

That  in  the  same  did  wonne  some  living  wight. 

Spenser. 

Luc y acted  as  her  father’s  guide,  for  he  was  too  much 
engrossed  with  his  political  labours,  or  with  society,  to  be 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


41 


perfectly  acquainted  with  his  own  extensive  domains,  and, 
moreover,  was  generally  an  inhabitant  of  the  city  of  Ed- 
inburgh ; and  she,  on  the  other  hand,  had,  with  her  mo- 
ther, resided  the  whole  summer  in  Ravenswood,  and, 
partly  from  taste,  partly  from  want  of  any  other  amuse- 
ment, had,  by  her  frequent  rambles,  learned  to  know  each 
lane,  alley,  dingle,  or  bushy  dell, 

“ And  every  bosky  bourne  from  side  to  side.” 

We  have  said  that  the  Lord  Keeper  was  not  indifferent 
to  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  we  must  add,  in  justice  to 
him,  that  he  felt  them  doubly,  when  pointed  out  by  the 
beautiful,  simple,  and  interesting  girl,  who,  hanging  on  his 
arm  with  filial  kindness,  now  called  him  to  admire  the 
size  of  some  ancient  oak,  and  now  the  unexpected  turn, 
where  the  path  developing  its  maze  from  glen  or  dingle, 
suddenly  reached  an  eminence  commanding  an  extensive 
view  of  the  plains  beneath  them,  and  then  gradually 
glided  away  from  the  prospect  to  lose  itself  among  rocks 
and  thickets,  and  guide  to  scenes  of  deeper  seclusion. 

It  was  when  pausing  on  one  of  those  points  of  exten- 
sive and  commanding  view,  that  Lucy  told  her  father 
they  were  close  by  the  cottage  of  her  blind  protegee  ; 
and  on  turning  from  the  little  hill,  a path  which  led  around 
it,  worn  by  the  daily  steps  of  the  infirm  inmate,  brought 
them  in  sight  of  the  hut,  which,  embosomed  in  a deep 
and  obscure  dell,  seemed  to  have  been  so  situated  pur- 
posely to  bear  a correspondence  with  the  darkened  state 
of  its  inhabitants. 

The  cottage  was  situated  immediately  under  a tall 
rock,  which  in  some  measure  beetled  over  it,  as  if  threat- 
ening to  drop  some  detached  fragment  from  its  brow  on 
the  frail  tenement  beneath.  The  hut  itself  was  construct- 
ed of  turf  and  stones,  and  rudely  roofed  over  with  thatch, 
much  of  which  was  in  a dilapidated  condition.  The  thin 
blue  smoke  rose  from  it  in  a light  column,  and  curled 
upward  along  the  white  face  of  the  incumbent  rock,  giv- 
ing the  scene  a tint  of  exquisite  softness.  In  a small  and 
4*  VOL.  I. 


42 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD, 


rude  garden,  surrounded  by  straggling  elder  bushes, 
which  formed  a sort  of  imperfect  hedge,  sat  near  to  the 
bee-hives,  by  the  produce  of  which  she  lived,  that  “ wom- 
an old,”  whom  Lucy  had  brought  her  father  hither  to 
visit. 

Whatever  there  had  been  which  was  disastrous  in  her 
fortune — Whatever  there  was  miserable  in  her  dwelling, 
it  was  easy  to  judge,  by  the  first  glance,  that  neither 
years,  poverty,  misfortune,  nor  infirmity,  had  broken  the 
spirit  of  this  remarkable  woman. 

She  occupied  a turf-seat,  placed  under  a weeping  birch 
of  unusual  magnitude  and  age,  as  Judah  is  represented 
sitting  under  his  palm-tree,  with  an  air  at  once  of  majesty 
and  of  dejection.  Her  figure  was  tall,  commanding,  and 
but  little  bent  by  the  infirmities  of  old  age.  Her  dress, 
though  that  of  a peasant,  was  remarkably  clean,  forming 
in  that  particular  a strong  contract  to  those  of  her  rank, 
and  was  disposed  with  an  attention  to  neatness  and  even 
to  taste,  equally  unusual.  But  it  was  her  expression  of 
countenance  which  chiefly  struck  the  spectator,  and  in- 
duced most  persons  to  address  her  with  a degree  of  def- 
erence and  civility  very  inconsistent  with  the  miserable 
state  of  her  dwelling ; and  which,  nevertheless,  she  re- 
ceived with  that  easy  composure,  which  showed  she  felt 
it  to  be  her  due.  She  had  once  been  beautiful,  but  her 
beauty  had  been  of  a bold  and  masculine  cast,  such  as 
does  not  survive  the  bloom  of  youth  ; yet  her  features 
continued  to  express  strong  sense,  deep  reflection,  and  a 
character  of  sober  pride,  which,  as  we  have  already  said 
of  her  dress,  appeared  to  argue  a conscious  superiority 
to  those  of  her  own  rank.  It  scarce  seemed  possible 
that  a face  deprived  of  the  advantage  of  sight,  could  have 
expressed  character  so  strongly  ; but  her  eyes,  which 
were  almost  totally  closed,  did  not  by  the  display  of  their 
sightless  orbs,  mar  the  countenance  to  which  they  could 
add  nothing.  She  seemed  in  a ruminating  posture,  sooth- 
ed, perhaps,  by  the  murmurs  of  the  busy  tribe  around  her, 
to  abstraction  though  not  to  slumber. 


THE  BRIDE  OE  LAMMERMOOR 


43 


Lucy  undid  the  latch  of  the  little  garden  gate,  and  so- 
licited the  old  woman’s  attention.  “ My  father,  Alice, 
is  come  to  see  you.” 

“ He  is  welcome,  Miss  Ashton,  and  so  are  you,”  said 
the  old  woman,  turning  and  inclining  her  head  towards 
her  visiters. 

“ This  is  a fine  morning  for  your  bee-hives,  mother,” 
said  the  Lord  Keeper,  who,  struck  with  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  Alice,  was  somewhat  curious  to  know  if  her 
conversation  would  correspond  with  it. 

“ I believe  so,  my  lord,”  she  replied  ; “ I feel  the  air 
breathe  milder  than  of  late.” 

“ You  do  not,”  resumed  the  statesman,  “ take  charge 
of  these  bees  yourself,  mother  — How  do  you  manage 
them  *?” 

“ By  delegates,  as  kings  do  their  subjects,”  resumed 
Alice,  “ and  I am  fortunate  in  a prime  minister — Here, 
Babie.” 

She  whistled  on  a small  silver  call  which  hung  around 
her  neck,  and  which  at  that  time  was  sometimes  used  to 
summon  domestics,  and  Babie,  a girl  of  fifteen,  made  her 
appearance  from  the  hut,  not  altogether  so  cleanly  array- 
ed as  she  would  probably  have  been  had  Alice  had  the 
use  of  her  eyes,  but  with  a greater  air  of  neatness  than 
was  upon  the  whole  to  have  been  expected. 

“ Babie,”  said  her  mistress,  “ offer  some  bread  and 
honey  to  the  Lord  Keeper  and  Miss  Ashton — they  will 
excuse  your  awkwardness,  if  you  use  cleanliness  and 
despatch.” 

Babie  performed  her  ^mistress’s  command  with  the 
grace  which  was  naturally  to  have  been  expected,  moving 
to  and  again  in  a lobster-like  gesture,  her  feet  and  legs 
tending  one-way,  while  her  head,  turned  in  a different 
direction,  was  fixed  in  wonder  upon  the  laird,  who  was 
more  frequently  heard  of  than  seen  by  his  tenants  and 
dependants.  The  bread  and  honey,  however,  deposited 
on  a plantain  leaf,  was  offered  and  accepted  in  all  due 
courtesy.  The  Lord  Keeper,  still  retaining  the  place 
which  he  had  occupied  on  the  decayed  trunk  of  a fallen 


44 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


tree,  looked  as  if  he  wished  to  prolong  the  interview,  but 
was  at  a loss  how  to  introduce  a suitable  subject. 

“ You  have  been  long  a resident  on  this  property  V9 
he  said,  after  a pause. 

“ It  is  now  nearly  sixty  years  since  I first  knew  Rav- 
enswood,”  answered  the  old  dame,  whose  conversation, 
though  perfectly  civil  and  respectful,  seemed  cautiously 
limited  to  the  unavoidable  and  necessary  task  of  reply- 
ing to  Sir  William. 

“ You  are  not,  I should  judge  by  your  accent,  of  this 
country  originally  9”  said  Sir  William  in  continuation. 

“ No  ; I am  by  birth  an  Englishwoman.” 

Yet  you  seem  attached  to  this  country  as  if  it  were 
your  own.” 

“ It  is  here,”  replied  the  blind  woman,  “ that  I have 
drunk  the  cup  of  joy  and  of  sorrow  which  Heaven  des- 
tined for  me — I was  here  the  wife  of  an  upright  and  af- 
fectionate husband  for  more  than  twenty  years — I was 
here  the  mother  of  six  promising  children — it  was  here 
that  God  deprived  me  of  all  these  blessings — it  was  here 
they  died,  and  yonder,  by  yon  ruined  chapel,  they  lie  all 
buried — I had  no  country  but  theirs  while  they  lived — I 
have  none  but  theirs  now  they  are  no  more.” 

“ But  your  house,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  looking  at 
it,  “ is  miserably  ruinous  9” 

“ Do,  my  dear  father,”  said  Lucy,  eagerly,  yet  bash- 
fully, catching  at  the  hint,  “ give  orders  to  make  it  better, 
— that  is,  if  you  think  it  proper.” 

“ It  will  last  my  time,  my  dear  Miss  Lucy,”  said  the 
blind  woman  ; u I would  not  have  my  lord  give  himself 
the  least  trouble  about  it.” 

“ But,”  said  Lucy,  “ you  once  had  a much  better 
house,  and  were  rich,  and  now  in  your  old  age  to  live  in 
this  hovel !” 

“ It  is  as  good  as  I deserve,  Miss  Lucy  ; if  my  heart 
has  not  broke  with  what  I have  suffered,  and  'seen  others 
suffer,  it  must  have  been  strong  enough,  and  the  rest  of 
this  old  frame  has  no  right  to  call  itself  weaker.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


45 


“ You  have  probably  witnessed  many  changes,”  said 
the  Lord  Keeper  ; “ but  your  experience  must  have 
taught  you  to  expect  them.” 

“ It  has  taught  me  to  endure  them,  my  lord,”  was  the 
reply. 

“ Yet  you  knew  that  they  must  needs  arrive  in  the 
course  of  years?”  said  the  statesman. 

“ Ay  ; as  I know  that  the  stump,  on  or  beside  which 
you  sit,  once  a tall  and  lofty  tree,  must  needs  one  day 
fall  by  decay  or  by  the  axe  ; yet  I hoped  my  eyes  might 
not  witness  the  downfall  of  the  tree  which  overshadowed 
my  dwelling.” 

“ Do  not  suppose,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ that  you 
will  lose  any  interest  with  me,  for  looking  back  with  re- 
gret to  the  days  when  another  family  possessed  my  es- 
tates. You  had  reason,  doubtless,  to  love  them,  and  I 
respect  your  gratitude.  I will  order  some  repairs  in 
your  cottage,  and  I hope  we  shall  live  to  be  friends  when 
we  know  each  other  better.” 

“ Those  of  my  age,”  returned  the  dame,  “ make  no 
new  friends.  I thank  you  for  your  bounty — it  is  well 
intended  undoubtedly  ; but  I have  all  I want,  and  I can- 
not accept  more  at  your  lordship’s  hands.” 

“ Well  then,”  continued  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ at  least 
allow  me  to  say,  that  I look  upon  you  as  a woman  of 
sense  and  education  beyond  your  appearance,  and  that 
I hope  you  will  continue  to  reside  on  this  property  of 
mine  rent-free  for  your  life.” 

“ I hope  I shall,”  said  the  old  dame,  composedly  ; “ I 
believe  that  was  made  an  article  in  the  sale  of  Ravens- 
wood  to  your  lordship,  though  such  a trifling  circumstance 
may  have  escaped  your  recollection.” 

“ I remember — I recollect,”  said  his  lordship,  some- 
what confused.  “ I perceive  you  are  too  much  attached 
to  your  old  friends  to  accept  any  benefit  from  their  suc- 
cessor.” 

“ Far  from  it,  my  lord  ; I am  grateful  for  the  benefits 
which  I decline,  and  I wish  I could  pay  you  for  offering 
them  better  than  what  I am  now  about  to  say.”  The 


46 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Lord  Keeper  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise,  but  said  not 
a word.  “ My  lord,”  she  continued,  in  an  impressive 
and  solemn  tone,  “ take  care  what  you  do  ; you  are  on  the 
brink  of  a precipice.” 

“ Indeed  9”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  his  mind  reverting 
to  the  political  circumstances  of  the  country  ; “ Has  any 
thing  come  to  your  knowledge — any  plot  or  conspiracy  ?” 

“ No,  my  lord ; those  who  traffic  in  such  commodities 
do  not  call  into  their  councils  the  old,  blind,  and  infirm. 
My  warning  is  of  another  kind.  You  have  driven  matters 
hard  with  the  house  of  llavenswood.  Believe  a true  tale 
—they  are  a fierce  house,  and  there  is  danger  in  deal- 
ing with  men  when  they  become  desperate.” 

“ Tush,”  answered  the  Keeper  ; “ what  has  been  be- 
tween us  has  been  the  work  of  the  law,  not  my  doing  •, 
and  to  the  law  they  must  look,  if  they  would  impugn 
my  proceedings.” 

“ Ay,  but  they  may  think  otherwise,  and  take  the  law 
into  their  own  hand,  when  they  fail  of  other  means  of  re- 
dress.” 

“ What  mean  you  9”  said  the  Lord  Keeper.  “ Young 
Ravenswood  would  not  have  recourse  to  personal  vio- 
lence 9” 

“ God  forbid  I should  say  so ; I know  nothing  of  the 
youth  but  what  is  honourable  and  open — honourable  and 
open,  said  1 9 — I should  have  added,  free,  generous,  no- 
ble. But  he  is  still  a Ravenswood,  and  may  bide  his 
time.  Remember  the  fate  of  Sir  George  Lockhart.”* 


* President  of  the  Court  of  Sessions  tie  was  pistolled  in  the  High  Street 
of  Edinburgh,  by  John  ChiesJey  of  Dairy,  in  the  year  1689.  The  revenge  of 
this  desperate  man  was  stimulated  by  an  opinion  that  he  had  sustained  injustice 
in  a decreet-arbitral  pronounced  by  the  President,  assigning  an  alimentary  pro- 
vision of  about  98/.  in  favour  of  his  wife  and  children.  He  is  said  at  first  to 
have  designed  to  shoot  the  judge  while  attending  upon  divine  worship,  but  was 
diverted  by  some  feeling  concerning  the  sanctity  of  the  place.  After  the  con- 
gregation was  dismissed,  he  dogged  his  victim  as  far  as  the  head  of  the  close 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Lawn-market,  in  which  the  President’s  house  was  situ- 
ated, and  shot  him  dead  as  he  was  about  to  enter  it.  This  act  was  done  in  the 
presence  of  numerous  spectators.  The  assassin  made  no  attempt  to  fly,  but 
boasted  of  the  deed,  saying,  “ I have  taught  the  President  how  to  do  justice.” 
He  had  at  least  given  him  fair  warning,  as  Jack  Cade  says  on  a similar  occa- 
sion. The  murderer,  after  undergoing  the  torture,  by  a special  act  of  the  Es- 
tates of  Parliament,  was  tried  before  the  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh,  as  high 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


47 


The  Lord  Keeper  started  as  she  called  to  his  recollec- 
tion a tragedy  so  deep  and  so  recent.  The  old  woman 
proceeded  : “ Chiesley,  who  did  the  deed,  was  a rela- 
tive of  Lord  Ravenswood.  In  the  hall  of  Ravenswood, 
in  my  presence,  and  in  that  of  others,  he  avowed  publicly 
his  determination  to  do  the  cruelty  which  he  afterwards 
committed.  I could  not  keep  silence,  though  to  speak  it 
ill  became  my  station.  6 You  are  devising  a dreadful 
crime,’  I said,  ‘ for  which  you  must  reckon  before  the 
judgment  seat.’  Never  shall  I forget  his  look,  as  he 
replied,  ‘ T must  reckon  then  for  many  things,  and  will 
reckon  for  this  also.’  Therefore  I may  well  say,  beware 
of  pressing  a desperate  man  with  the  hand  of  authority. 
There  is  blood  of  Chiesley  in  the  veins  of  Ravenswood, 
and  one  drop  of  it  were  enough  to  fire  him  in  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  is  placed — I say  beware  of  him.” 
The  old  dame  had,  either  intentionally  or  by  accident, 
harped  aright  the  fear  of  the  Lord  Keeper.  The  des- 
perate and  dark  resource  of  private  assassination,  so  fa- 
miliar to  a Scottish  baron  in  former  times,  had  even  in 
the  present  age  been  too  frequently  resorted  to  under  the 
pressure  of  unusual  temptation,  or  where  the  mind  of  the 
actor  was  prepared  for  such  a crime.  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton was  aware  of  this ; as  also  that  young  Ravenswood 
had  received  injuries  sufficient  to  prompt  him  to  that  sort 
of  revenge,  which  becomes  a frequent  though  fearful  con- 
sequence of  the  partial  administration  of  justice.  He 
endeavoured  to  disguise  from  Alice  the  nature  of  the  ap- 
prehensions which  he  entertained,  but  so  ineffectually, 
that  a person  even  of  less  penetration  than  nature  had 
endowed  her  with  must  necessarily  have  been  aware  that 
the  subject  lay  near  his  bosom.  His  voice  was  changed 
in  its  accent  as  he  replied  to  her,  that  the  Master  of  Rav- 
enswood was  a man  of  honour ; and,  were  it  otherwise, 


sheriff,  and  condemned  to  be  dragged  on  a hurdle  to  the  place  of  execution,  to 
have  his  right  hand  struck  off  while  yet  he  lived,  and  finally  to  be  hanged  on 
the  gallows  with  the  pistol  wherewith  he  shot  the  President  tied  round  his  nock. 
This  execution  took  place  on  the  3d  of  April,  1689  ; and  the  incident  was  long 
remembered  as  a dreadful  instance  of  what  the  law  books  call  the  perfervidum 
genium  Scotonim . 


48 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


that  the  fate  of  Chiesley  of  Dairy  was  a sufficient  warn- 
ing to  any  one  who  should  dare  to  assume  the  office  of 
avenger  of  his  own  imaginary  wrongs.  And  having  hastily 
uttered  those  expressions,  he  rose  and  left  the  place  with- 
out waiting  for  a reply. 


CHAPTER  V. 

■ — Is  she  a Capulet  ? 

O dear  account ! my  life  is  my  foe's  debt. 

ShaJcspeare . 

The  Lord  Keeper  walked  for  nearly  a quarter  of  a 
mile  in  profound  silence.  His  daughter  naturally  timid, 
and  bred  up  in  those  ideas  of  filial  awe  and  implicit  obe- 
dience which  were  inculcated  upon  the  youth  of  that  pe- 
riod, did  not  venture  to  interrupt  his  meditations. 

“ Why  do  you  look  so  pale,  Lucy?”  said  her  father, 
turning  suddenly  round  and  breaking  silence. 

According  to  the  ideas  of  the  time,  which  did  not  per- 
mit a young  woman  to  offer  her  sentiments  on  any  sub- 
ject of  importance  unless  especial!}’  required  to  do  so, 
Lucy  was  bound  to  appear  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  all 
that  had  passed  betwixt  Alice  and  her  father,  and  imput- 
ed the  emotion  he  had  observed  to  the  fear  of  the  wild 
cattle  which  grazed  in  that  part  of  the  extensive  chase 
through  which  they  were  now  walking. 

Of  these  animals,  the  descendants  of  the  savage  herds 
which  anciently  roamed  free  in  the  Caledonian  forests, 
it  was  formerly  a point  of  state  to  preserve  a few  in  the 
parks  of  the  Scottish  nobility.  Specimens  continued 
within  the  memory  of  man  to  be  kept  at  least  at  three 
houses  of  distinction,  Hamilton  namely,  Drumlanrick,  and 
Cumbernauld.  They  had  degenerated  from  the  ancient 
race  in  size  and  strength,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  the  ac- 


THE  BRIDE  0¥  IAMMERMOOR. 


49 


counts  of  old  chronicles,  and  from  the  formidable  remains 
frequently  discovered  in  bogs  and  morasses  when  drained 
and  laid  open.  The  bull  had  lost  the  shaggy  honours  of 
his  mane,  and  the  race  was  small  and  light  made,  in  col- 
our a dingy  white,  or  rather  a pale  yellow,  with  black 
horns  and  hoofs.  They  retained,  however,  in  some  meas- 
ure, the  ferocity  of  their  ancestry,  could  not  be  domesti- 
cated on  account  of  their  antipathy  to  the  human  race, 
and  were  often  dangerous  if  approached  unguardedly,- or 
wantonly  disturbed.  It  was  this  last  reason  which  has 
occasioned  their  being  extirpated  at  the  places  we  have 
mentioned,  where  probably  they  would  otherwise  have 
been  retained  as  appropriate  inhabitants  of  a Scottish 
woodland,  and  fit  tenants  for  a baronial  forest.  A few, 
if  I mistake  not,  are  still  preserved  at  Chillingham  Castle, 
Northumberland,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Tankerville. 

It  was  to  her  finding  herself  in  the  vicinity  of  a group 
of  three  or  four  of  these  animals,  that  Lucy  thought  proper 
to  impute  those  signs  of  fear,  which  had  arisen  in  her 
countenance  for  a different  reason.  For  she  had  been  fa- 
miliarized with  the  appearance  of  the  wild  cattle,  during 
her  walks  in  the  chase ; and  it  was  not  then,  as  now,  a 
necessary  part  of  a young  lady’s  education,  to  indulge  in 
causeless  tremors  of  the  nerves.  On  the  present  occa- 
sion, however,  she  speedily  found  cause  for  real  terror. 

Lucy  had  scarcely  replied  to  her  father  in  the  words 
we  have  mentioned,  and  he  was  just  about  to  rebuke  her 
supposed  timidity,  when  a bull,  stimulated  either  by  the 
scarlet  colour  of  Miss  Ashton’s  mantle,  or  by  one  of  those 
fits  of  capricious  ferocity  to  which  their  dispositions  are 
liable,  detached  himself  suddenly  from  the  group  which 
was  feeding  at  the  upper  extremity  of  a grassy  glade, 
that  seemed  to  lose  itself  among  the  crossing  and  entangled 
boughs.  The  animal  approached  the  intruders  on  his 
pasture  ground,  at  first  slowly,  pawing  the  ground  with 
his  hoof,  bellowing  from  time  to  time,  and  tearing  up 
the  sand  with  his  horns,  as  if  to  lash  himself  up  to  rage 
and  violence. 

5 VOL.  I. 


50 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


The  Lord  Keeper,  who  observed  the  animal’s  de- 
meanour, was  aware  that  he  was  about  to  become  mis- 
chievous, and  drawing  his  daughter’s  arm  under  his  own, 
began  to  walk  fast  along  the  avenue,  in  hopes  to  get  out 
of  his  sight  and  his  reach.  This  was  the  most  injudicious 
course  he  could  have  adopted,  for,  encouraged  by  the 
appearance  of  flight,  the  bull  began  to  pursue  them  at 
full  speed*  Assailed  by  a danger  so  imminent,  firmer 
courage  than  that  of  the  Lord  Keeper  might  have  given 
way.  But  paternal  tenderness,  “ love  strong  as  death,” 
sustained  him.  He  continued  to  support  and  drag  on- 
ward his  daughter,  until  her  fears  altogether  depriving 
her  of  the  power  of  flight,  she  sunk  down  by  his  side  ; 
and  when  he  could  no  longer  assist  her  to  escape,  he 
turned  round  and  placed  himself  betwixt  her  and  the  rag- 
ing animal,  which  advancing  in  full  career,  its  brutal  fury 
enhanced  by  the  rapidity  of  the  pursuit,  was  now  within 
a few  yards  of  them.  The  Lord  Keeper  had  no  weapons  ; 
his  age  and  gravity  dispensed  even  with  the  usual  appen- 
dage of  a walking  sword, — could  such  appendage  have 
availed  him  anything. 

It  seemed  inevitable  that  the  father  or  daughter,  or 
both,  should  have  fallen  victims  to  the  impending  danger, 
when  a shot  from  the  neighbouring  thicket  arrested  the 
progress  of  the  animal.  He  was  so  truly  struck  between 
the  junction  of  the  spine  with  the  skull,  that  the  wound, 
which  in  any  other  part  of  his  body  might  scarce  have 
impeded  his  career,  proved  instantly  fatal.  Stumbling 
forward  with  a hideous  bellow,  the  progressive  force  of 
his  previous  motion,  rather  than  any  operation  of  his 
limbs,  carried  him  up  to  within  three  yards  of  the  aston- 
ished Lord  Keeper,  where  he  rolled  on  the  ground,  his 
limbs  darkened  with  the  black  death-sweat,  and  quivering 
with  the  last  convulsions  of  muscular  motion. 

Lucy  lay  senseless  on  the  ground,  insensible  of  the 
wonderful  deliverance  which  she  had  experienced.  Her 
father  was  almost  equally  stupified,  so  rapid  and  so  unex- 
pected had  been  the  transition  from  the  horrid  death 


THE  1UUDE  OF  IAMMEBMOOR.  51 

which  seemed  inevitable,  to  perfect  security.  He  gazed 
on  the  animal,  terrible  even  in  death,  with  a species  of 
mute  and  confused  astonishment,  which  did  not  permit 
him  distinctly  to  understand  what  had  taken  place,  and  so 
inaccurate  wras  his  consciousness  of  what  had  passed, 
that  he  might  have  supposed  the  bull  had  been  arrest- 
ed in  its  career  by  a thunderbolt,  had  he  not  observed 
among  the  branches  of  the  thicket  the  figure  of  a man, 
with  a short  gun  or  musketoon  in  his  hand. 

This  instantly  recalled  him  to  a sense  of  their  situation 
— a glance  at  his  daughter  reminded  him  of  the  necessity 
of  procuring  her  assistance.  He  called  to  the  man  whom 
he  concluded  to  be  one  of  his  foresters,  to  give  immedi- 
ate attention  to  Miss  Ashton,  while  he  himself  hastened  to 
call  assistance.  The  huntsman  approached  them  accord- 
ingly and  the  Lord  Keeper  saw  he  was  a stranger,  but 
was  too  much  agitated  to  make  any  further  remarks.  In 
a few  hurried  words,  he  directed  the  shooter,  as  stronger 
and  more  active  than  himself,  to  carry  the  young  lady  to 
a neighbouring  fountain,  while  he  went  back  to  Alice’s 
hut  to  procure  more  aid. 

The  man  to  whose  timely  interference  they  had  been 
so  much  indebted,  did  not  seem  inclined  to  leave  his  good 
work  half  finished.  He  raised  Lucy  from  the  ground  in 
his  arms,  and  conveying  her  through  the  glades  of  the 
forest  by  paths  with  which  he  seemed  well  acquainted, 
stopped  not  until  he  had  laid  her  in  safety  by  the  side  of 
a plentiful  and  pelucid  fountain,  which  had  been  once 
covered  in,  screened  and  decorated  with  architectural 
ornaments  of  a Gothic  character.  But  now  the  vault 
which  had  covered  it  being  broken  down  and  riven,  and 
the  Gothic  front  ruined  and  demolished,  the  stream  burst 
forth  from  the  recess  of  the  earth  in  open  day,  and  wind- 
ed its  way  among  the  broken  sculpture  and  moss-grown 
stones  which  lay  in  confusion  around  its  source. 

Tradition,  always  busy,  at  least  in  Scotland,  to  grace 
with  a legendary  tale  a spot  in  itself  interesting,  had  as- 
cribed a cause  of  peculiar  veneration  to  this  fountain.  A 


52 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


beautiful  young  lady  met  one  of  the  Lords  of  Ravens- 
wood  while  hunting  near  this  spot,  and,  like  a second 
Egeria,  had  captivated  the  affections  of  the  feudal  Numa. 
They  met  frequently  afterwards,  and  always  at  sunset, 
the  charms  of  the  nymph’s  mind  completing  the  conquest 
which  her  beauty  had  begun,  and  the  mystery  of  the  in- 
trigue adding  zest  to  both.  She  always  appeared  and 
disappeared  close  by  the  fountain,  with  which,  therefore, 
her  lover  judged  she  had  some  inexplicable  connection. 
She  placed  certain  restrictions  on  their  intersourse,  which 
also  savoured  of  mystery.  They  met  only  once  a week, 
Friday  was  the  appointed  day,  and  she  explained  to  the 
Lord  of  Ravenswood,  that  they  were  under  the  necessity 
of  separating  so  soon  as  the  bell  of  a chapel,  belonging  to 
a hermitage  in  the  adjoining  wood,  now  long  ruinous, 
tolled  the  hour  of  vespers.  In  the  course  of  his  confes- 
sion, the  Baron  of  Ravenswood  intrusted  the  hermit  with 
the  secret  of  this  singular  amour,  and  Father  Zachary 
drew  the  necessary  and  obvious  consequence,  that  his 
patron  was  enveloped  in  the  toils  of  Satan,  and  in  danger 
of  destruction  both  to  body  and  soul.  He  urged  these 
perils  to  the  Baron  with  all  the  force  of  monkish  rhetoric, 
and  described,  in  the  most  frightful  colours,  the  real  char- 
acter and  person  of  the  apparently  lovely  Naiad,  whom 
he  hesitated  not  to  denounce  as  a limb  of  the  kingdom 
of  darkness.  The  lover  listened  with  obstinate  incredu- 
lity ; and  it  was  not  until  worn  out  by  the  obstinacy  of  the 
anchoret,  that  he  consented  to  put  the  state  and  condition 
of  his  mistress  to  a certain  trial,  and  for  that  purpose  ac- 
quiesced in  Zachary’s  proposal,  that  on  their  next  inter- 
view the  vesper’s  bell  should  be  rung  half  an  hour  later 
than  usual.  The  hermit  maintained  and  bucklered  his 
opinion,  by  quotations  from  Malleus  Malificarum , Spren - 
gerus , Remigius , and  other  learned  daemonologists,  that 
the  Evil  One,  thus  seduced  to  remain  behind  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  would  assume  her  true  shape,  and  having 
appeared  to  her  terrified  lover  as  a fiend  of  hell,  would 
vanish  from  him  in  a flash  of  sulphureous  lightning.  Ray-* 
mond  of  Ravenswood  acquiesced  in  the  experiment,  not 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR* 


53 


incurious  concerning  the  issue,  though  confident  it  would 
disappoint  the  expectations  of  the  hermit. 

On  the  appointed  hour  the  lovers  met,  and  their  inter- 
view was  protracted  beyond  that  at  which  they  usually 
parted,  by  the  delay  of  the  priest  to  ring  his  usual  curfew. 
No  change  took  place  upon  the  nymph’s  outward  form  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  lengthening  shadows  made  her  aware 
that  the  usual  hour  of  the  vesper  chime  was  passed,  she 
tore  herself  from  her  lover’s  arms  with  a shriek  of  de- 
spair, bid  him  adieu  for  ever,  and  plunging  into  the  foun- 
tain, disappeared  from  his  eyes.  The  bubbles  occasion- 
ed by  her  descent  were  crimsoned  with  blood  as  they 
arose,  leading  the  distracted  baron  to  infer,  that  his  ill- 
judged  curiosity  had  occasioned  the  death  of  this  interest- 
ing and  mysterious  being.  The  remorse  which  he  felt,  as 
well  as  the  recollection  of  her  charms,  proved  the  penance 
of  his  future  life,  which  he  lost  in  the  battle  of  Flodden 
not  many  months  after.  But,  in  memory  of  his  Naiad,  he 
had  previously  ornamented  the  fountain  in  which  she  ap- 
peared to  reside,  and  secured  its  waters  from  profanation 
or  pollution,  by  the  small  vaulted  building  of  which  the 
fragments  still  remained  scattered  around  it.  From  this 
period  the  house  of  Ravenswood  was  supposed  to  have 
dated  its  decay. 

Such  was  the  generally  received  legend,  which  some, 
who  would  seem  wiser  than  the  vulgar,  explained,  as  ob- 
scurely intimating  the  fate  of  a beautiful  maid  of  plebeian 
rank,  the  mistress  of  this  Raymond,  whom  he  slew  in  a fit 
of  jealousy,  and  whose  blood  was  mingled  with  the  waters 
of  the  locked  fountain,  as  it  was  commonly  called.  Others 
imagined  that  the  tale  had  a more  remote  origin  in  the 
ancient  heathen  mythology.  All  however  agreed,  that 
the  spot  was  fatal  to  the  Ravenswood  family  ; and  that 
to  drink  of  the  wTaters  of  the  well,  or  even  approach  its 
brink,  was  as  ominous  to  a descendant  of  that  house,  as 
for  a Grahame  to  wear  green,  a Bruce  to  kill  a spider, 
or  a St.  Clair  to  cross  the  Ord  on  a Monday. 

5*  VOL.  i. 


54 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


It  was  on  this  ominous  spot  that  Lucy  Ashton  first 
drew  breath  after  her  long  and  almost  deadly  swoon. 
Beautiful  and  pale  as  the  fabulous  Naiad  in  the  last  agony 
of  separation  from  her  lover,  she  was  seated  so  as  to  rest 
with  her  back  against  a part  of  the  ruined  wall,  while  her 
mantle,  dripping  with  the  water  which  her  protector  had 
used  profusely  to  recall  her  senses,  clung  to  her  slender 
and  beautifully  proportioned  form. 

The  first  moment  of  recollection  brought  to  her  mind 
the  danger  which  had  overpowered  her  senses — the  next 
called  to  remembrance  that  of  her  father.  She  looked 
around — he  was  no  where  to  be  seen — “ My  father — my 
father  !”  was  all  that  she  could  ejaculate. 

“ Sir  William  is  safe,”  answered  the  voice  of  a stran- 
ger— “ perfectly  safe,  and  will  be  with  you  instantly.” 

“ Are  you  sure  of  that  ?”  exclaimed  Lucy — “ the  bull 
was  close  by  us — do  not  stop  me — I must  go  to  seek  my 
father.” 

And  she  arose  with  that  purpose  ; but  her  strength  was 
so  much  exhausted,  that,  far  from  possessing  the  power 
to  execute  her  purpose,  she  must  have  fallen  against  the 
stone  on  which  she  had  leant,  probably  not  without  sus- 
taining serious  injury. 

The  stranger  was  so  near  to  her,  that,  without  actually 
suffering  her  to  fall,  he  could  not  avoid  catching  her  in 
his  arms,  which,  however,  he  did  with  a momentary  re- 
luctance, very  unusual  when  youth  interposes  to  prevent 
beauty  from  danger.  It  seemed  as  if  her  weight,  slight 
as  it  was,  proved  too  heavy  for  her  young  and  athletic 
assistant,  for,  without  feeling  the  temptation  of  detaining 
her  in  his  arms  even  for  a single  instant,  he  again  placed 
her  on  the  stone  from  which  she  had  risen,  and  retreating 
a few  steps,  repeated  hastily,  “ Sir  William  Ashton  is 
perfectly  safe,  and  will  be  here  instantly.  Do  not  make 
yourself  anxious  on  his  account — Fate  has  singularly  pre- 
served him — You,  madam,  are  exhausted,  and  must  not 
think  of  rising  until  you  have  some  assistance  more  suit- 
able than  mine.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


55 


Lucy,  whose  senses  were  by  this  time  more  effectually 
collected,  was  naturally  led  to  look  at  the  stranger  with 
attention.  There  was  nothing  in  his  appearance  which 
should  have  rendered  him  unwilling  to  offer  his  arm  to  a 
young  lady  who  required  support,  or  which  could  have 
induced  her  to  refuse  his  assistance  ; and  she  could  not 
help  thinking,  even  in  that  moment,  that  he  seemed  cold 
and  reluctant  to  offer  it.  A shooting-dress  of  dark  cloth, 
intimated  the  rank  of  the  wearer,  though  concealed  in 
part  by  a large  and  loose  cloak  of  a dark  brown  col- 
our. A Montero  cap  and  a black  feather  drooped  over  the 
wearer’s  brow,  and  partly  concealed  his  features,  which, 
so  far  as  seen,  were  dark,  regular  and  full  of  majestic, 
though  somewhat  sullen,  expression.  Some  secret  sor- 
row, or  the  brooding  spirit  of  some  moody  passion,  had 
quenched  the  light  and  ingenuous  vivacity  of  youth  in  a 
countenance  singularly  fitted  to  display  both,  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  gaze  on  the  stranger  without  a secret  impres- 
sion either  of  pity  or  awe,  or  at  least  of  doubt  and  curiosity 
allied  to  both. 

The  impression  which  we  have  necessarily  been  long 
in  describing,  Lucy  felt  in  the  glance  of  a moment,  and 
had  no  sooner  encountered  the  keen  black  eyes  of  the 
stranger,  than  her  own  were  bent  on  the  ground  with  a 
mixture  of  bashful  embarrassment  and  fear.  Yet  there 
was  a necessity  to  speak,  or  at  least  she  thought  so,  and 
in  a fluttered  accent  she  began  to  mention  her  wonderful 
escape,  in  which  she  was  sure  that  the  stranger  must, 
under  heaven,  have  been  her  father’s  protector,  and  her 
own. 

He  seemed  to  shrink  from  her  expressions  of  gratitude 
while  he  replied  abruptly,  “ I leave  you,  madam,”  the 
deep  melody  of  his  voice  rendered  powerful,  but  not  harsh, 
by  something  like  a severity  of  tone — “ I leave  you  to  the 
protection  of  those  to  whom  it  is  possible  you  may  have 
this  day  been  a guardian  angel.” 

Lucy  was  surprised  at  the  ambiguity  of  his  language, 
and,  with  a feeling  of  artless  and  unaffected  gratitude, 
began  to  deprecate  the  idea  of  having  intended  to  give 


56 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


her  deliverer  any  offence,  as  if  such  a thing  had  been 
possible.  “ I have  been  unfortunate,”  she  said,  “ in  en- 
deavouring to  express  my  thanks — I am  sure  it  must  be 
so.  though  I cannot  recollect  what  I said — but  would  you 
but  stay  till  my  father — till  the  Lord  Keeper  comes — 
would  you  only  permit  him  to  pay  you  his  thanks,  and  to 
inquire  your  name  *?” 

“ My  name  is  unnecessary,”  answered  the  stranger ; 
“ your  father — I would  rather  say  Sir  William  Ashton — 
will  learn  it  soon  enough,  for  all  the  pleasure  it  is  likely 
to  afford  him.” 

“ You  mistake  him,”  said  Lucy  earnestly  ; “ he  will 
be  grateful  for  my  sake  and  for  his  own.  You  do  not 
know  my  father  or  you  are  deceiving  me  with  a story  of 
his  safety  when  he  has  already  fallen  a victim  to  the  fury 
of  that  animal.” 

When  she  had  caught  this  idea,  she  started  from  the 
ground,  and  endeavoured  to  press  towards  the  avenue  in 
which  the  accident  had  taken  place,  while  the  stranger, 
though  he  seemed  to  hesitate  between  the  desire  to  assist 
and  the  wish  to  leave  her,  was  obliged  in  common  hu- 
manity, to  oppose  her  both  by  entreaty  and  action. 

“ On  the  word  of  a gentleman,  madam,  I tell  you  the 
truth  ; your  father  is  in  perfect  safety  ; you  will  expose 
yourself  to  injury  if  you  venture  back  where  the  herd  of 
wild  cattle  grazed — If  you  will  go” — for,  having  once 
adopted  the  idea  that  her  father  was  still  in  danger,  she 
pressed  forward  in  spite  of  him — “ if  you  will  go,  accept 
my  arm,  though  I am  not  perhaps  the  person  who  can 
with  most  propriety  offer  you  support.” 

But  without  heeding  this  intimation,  Lucy  took  him  at 
his  word,  “ O if  you  be  a man,”  she  said, — “ if  you  be 
a gentleman,  assist  me  to  find  my  father — You  shall  not 
leave  me — you  must  go  with  me — he  is  dying  perhaps 
while  we  are  talking  here.” 

Then,  without  listening  to  excuse  or  apology,  and  hold- 
ing fast  by  the  stranger’s  arm,  though  unconscious  of  any- 
thing save  the  support  which  it  gave,  and  without  which 
she  could  not  have  moved,  mixed  with  a vague  feeling 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR- 


57 


of  preventing  his  escape  from  her,  she  was  urging,  and 
almost  dragging  him  forward,  when  Sir  William  Ashton 
came  up,  followed  by  the  female  attendant  of  blind  Alice, 
and  by  two  wood-cutters,  whom  he  had  summoned  from 
their  occupation  to  his  assistance.  His  joy  at  seeing  his 
daughter  safe,  overcame  the  surprise  with  which  he  would 
at  another  time  have  beheld  her  hanging  as  familiarly  on 
the  arm  of  a stranger,  as  she  might  have  done  upon  his 
own. 

“ Lucy,  my  dear  Lucy,  are  you  safe  ? — are  you  well  ?” 
were  the  only  words  that  broke  from  him  as  he  embraced 
her  in  ecstasy. 

“ I am  well,  sir,  thank  God,  and  still  more  that  I see 
you  so  ; — but  this  gentleman,”  she  said,  quitting  his  arm, 
and  shrinking  from  him,  “ what  must  he  think  of  me  V9 
and  her  eloquent  blood,  flushing  over  neck  and  brow’, 
spoke  how  much  she  was  ashamed  of  the  freedom  with 
which  she  had  craved,  and  even  compelled  his  assist- 
ance. 

“ This  gentleman,”  said  Sir  William  Ashton,  “ will,  I 
trust  not  regret  the  trouble  we  have  given  him,  when  I 
assure  him  of  the  gratitude  of  the  Lord  Keeper  for  the 
greatest  service  which  one  man  ever  rendered  to  another 
- — for  the  life  of  my  child — for  my  own  life,  which  he 
has  saved  by  his  bravery  and  presence  of  mind.  He 
will,  1 am  sure,  permit  us  to  request — ” 

“ Request  nothing  of  me,  my  lord,”  said  the  stranger, 
in  a stern  and  peremptory  tone  : “ 1 am  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood.” 

There  was  a dead  pause  of  surprise,  not  unmixed  with 
less  pleasant  feelings.  The  Master  wrapt  himself  in  his 
cloak,  made  a haughty  inclination  towards  Lucy,  mutter- 
ing a few  words  of  courtesy,  as  indistinctly  heard  as  they 
seemed  to  be  reluctantly  uttered,  and  turning  from  them 
was  immediately  lost  in  the  thicket. 

“ The  Master  of  Ravenswood  !”  said  the  Lord  Keep- 
er, when  he  had  recovered  his  momentary  astonishment 
— “ Hasten  after  him — stop  him — beg  him  to  speak  to 
me  for  a single  moment.” 


58 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


The  two  foresters  accordingly  set  off  in  pursuit  of  the 
stranger,  'they  speedily  returned,  and,  in  an  embarrass- 
ed and  awkward  manner,  said  the  gentleman  would  not 
return.  The  Lord  Keeper  took  one  of  the  fellows  aside, 
and  questioned  him  more  closely  what  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  had  said. 

“ He  just  said  he  wadna  come  back,”  said  the  man, 
with  the  caution  of  a prudent  Scotchman,  who  cared  not 
to  be  the  bearer  of  an  unpleasant  errand. 

“ He  said  something  more,  sir,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
“ and  I insist  on  knowing  what  it  was.” 

“ Why,  then,  my  lord,”  said  the  man,  looking  down, 
u he  said — but  it  wad  be  nae  pleasure  to  your  lordship  to 
hear  it,  for  I dare  say  the  Master  meant  nae  ill.” 

“ That’s  none  of  your  concern,  sir  ; I desire  to  hear 
the  very  words.” 

“ Weel  then,”  replied  the  man,  “ he  said,  tell  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton,  that  the  next  time  he  and  I forgather,  he  will 
not  be  half  sae  blithe  of  our  meeting  as  of  our  parting.” 

“ Very  well,  sir,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ I believe  he 
alludes  to  a wager  we  have  on  our  hawks — it  is  a matter 
of  no  consequence.” 

He  turned  to  his  daughter,  who  w’as  by  this  time  so 
much  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk  home.  But  the  ef- 
fect which  the  various  recollections,  connected  with  a scene 
so  terrific,  made  upon  a mind  which  was  susceptible  in  an 
extreme  degree,  was  more  permanent  than  the  injury 
which  her  nerves  had  sustained.  Visions  of  terror,  both 
in  sleep  and  in  waking  reveries,  recalled  to  her  the  form 
of  the  furious  animal,  and  the  dreadful  bellow  with  which 
he  accompanied  his  career ; and  it  was  always  the  image 
of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  with  his  native  nobleness 
of  countenance  and  form,  that  seemed  to  interpose  betwixt 
her  and  assured  death.  It  is,  perhaps,  at  all  times  dan- 
gerous for  a young  person  to  suffer  recollection  to  dwell 
repeatedly,  and  with  too  much  complacency,  on  the  same 
individual;  but  in  Lucy’s  situation  it  was  almost  unavoid- 
able. She  had  never  happened  to  see  a young  man  of 
mien  and  features  so  romantic  and  so  striking  as  young 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOK, 


59 


Ravenswood  ; but  had  she  seen  an  hundred  his  equals  or 
his  superiors  in  those  particulars,  no  one  else  could  have 
been  linked  to  her  heart  by  the  strong  associations  of  re- 
membered danger  and  escape,  of  gratitude,  wonder  and 
curiosity.  I say  curiosity,  for  it  is  likely  that  the  singu- 
larly restrained  and  unaccommodating  manners  of  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood,  so  much  at  variance  with  the  nat- 
ural expression  of  his  features  and  grace  of  his  deport- 
ment, as  they  excited  wonder  by  the  contrast,  had  their 
effect  in  rivetting  her  attention  to  the  recollection.  She 
knew  little  of  Ravenswood,  or  the  disputes  which  had 
existed  betwixt  her  father  and  his,  and  perhaps  could  in 
her  gentleness  of  mind  hardly  have  comprehended  the 
angry  and  bitter  passions  which  they  had  engendered. 
But  she  knew  that  he  was  come  of  noble  stem  ; was  poor, 
though  descended  from  the  noble  and  the  wealthy  ; and 
she  felt  that  she  could  sympathize  with  the  feelings  of  a 
proud  mind,  which  urged  him  to  recoil  from  the  proffered 
gratitude  of  the  new  proprietors  of  his  father’s  house  and 
domains.  Would  he  have  equally  shunned  their  acknow- 
ledgments and  avoided  their  intimacy,  had  her  father’s 
request  been  urged  more  mildly,  less  abruptly,  and  soft- 
ened with  the  grace  which  women  so  well  know  how  to 
throw  into  their  manner,  when  they  mean  to  mediate  be- 
twixt the  headlong  passions  of  the  ruder  sex  This  was 
a perilous  question  to  ask  her  own  mind — perilous  both  in 
the  idea  and  in  its  consequences. 

Lucy  Ashton,  in  short,  was  involved  in  those  mazes  of 
the  imagination  which  are  most  dangerous  to  the  young 
and  the  sensitive.  Time,  it  is  true,  absence,  change  of 
place  and  of  face,  might  probably  have  destroyed  the  il- 
lusion in  her  instance  as  it  has  done  in  mauy  others  ; but 
her  residence  remained  solitary,  and  her  mind  without 
those  means  of  dissipating  her  pleasing  visions.  This  sol- 
itude was  chiefly  owing  to  the  absence  of  Lady  Ashton, 
who  was  at  this  time  in  Edinburgh,  watching  the  progress 
of  some  state-intrigue  ; the  Lord  Keeper  only  received 
society  out  of  policy  or  ostentation,  and  was  by  nature 
rather  reserved  and  unsociable  ; and  thus  no  cavalier  ap- 


60 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


peared  to  rival  or  to  obscure  the  ideal  picture  of  chival- 
rous excellence  which  Lucy  had  pictured  to  herself  in  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood. 

While  Lucy  indulged  in  those  dreams,  she  made  fre- 
quent visits  to  old  blind  Alice,  hoping  it  would  be  easy  to 
lead  her  to  talk  on  the  subject,  which  at  present  she  had 
so  imprudently  admitted  to  occupy  so  large  a portion  of 
her  thoughts.  But  Alice  did  not  in  this  particular  gratify 
her  wishes  and  expectations.  She  spoke  readily,  and 
with  pathetic  feeling,  concerning  the  family  in  general, 
but  seemed  to  observe  an  especial  and  cautious  silence  on 
the  subject  of  the  present  representative.  The  little  she 
said  of  him  was  not  altogether  so  favourable  as  Lucy  had 
anticipated.  She  hinted  that  he  was  of  a stern  and  un- 
forgiving character,  more  ready  to  resent  than  to  pardon 
injuries  ; and  Lucy  combined  with  great  alarm  the  hints 
which  she  now  dropped  of  these  dangerous  qualities,  with 
Alice’s  advice  to  her  father,  so  emphatically  given,  “ to 
beware  of  Ravenswood.” 

But  that  very  Ravenswood,  of  whom  such  unjust  suspi- 
cions had  been  entertained,  had,  almost  immediately  after 
they  had  been  uttered,  confuted  them  by  saving  at  once 
her  father’s  life  and  her  own.  Had  he  nourished  such 
black  revenge  as  Alice’s  dark  hints  seemed  to  indicate,  no 
deed  of  active  guilt  was  necessary  to  the  full  gratification 
of  that  evil  passion.  He  needed  but  to  have  withheld  for 
an  instant  his  indispensable  and  effective  assistance,  and 
the  object  of  his  resentment  must  have  perished,  without 
any  direct  aggression  on  his  part,  by  a death  equally  fear- 
ful and  certain.  She  conceived,  therefore,  that  some 
secret  prejudice,  or  the  suspicions  incident  to  age  and  mis- 
fortune, had  led  Alice  to  form  conclusions  injurious  to  the 
character,  and  irreconcilable  both  with  the  generous  con- 
duct and  noble  features  of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
And  in  this  belief  Lucy  reposed  her  hope,  and  went  on 
weaving  her  enchanted  web  of  fairy  tissue,  as  beautiful 
and  transient  as  the  film  of  the  gossamer,  when  it  is  pearled 
with  the  morning  dew,  and  glimmering  to  the  morning  sun. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


61 


Her  father,  in  the  meanwhile,  as  well  as  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  were  making  reflections,  as  frequent,  though 
more  solid  than  those  of  Lucy,  upon  the  singular  event 
which  had  taken  place.  His  first  task,  when  he  returned 
home,  was  to  ascertain  by  medical  assistance  that  his 
daughter  had  sustained  no  injury  from  the  dangerous  and 
alarming  situation  in  which  she  had  been  placed.  Satis- 
fied on  this  topic,  he  proceeded  to  revise  the  memoranda 
which  he  had  taken  down  from  the  mouth  of  the  person 
employed  to  interrupt  the  funeral  service  of  the  late  Lord 
Ravenswood.  Bred  to  casuistry,  and  well  accustomed 
to  practise  the  ambi-dexter  ingenuity  of  the  bar,  it  cost 
him  little  trouble  to  soften  the  features  of  the  tumult  which 
he  had  been  at  first  so  anxious  to  exaggerate.  He  preach- 
ed to  his  colleagues  of  the  Privy-council,  the  necessity 
of  using  conciliatory  measures  with  young  men  whose 
blood  and  temper  were  hot,  and  their  experience  of  life 
limited.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  attribute  some  censure 
to  the  conduct  of  the  officer,  as  having  been  unnecessa- 
rily irritating. 

These  were  the  contents  of  his  public  despatches.  The 
letters  which  he  wrote  to  those  private  friends  into  whose 
management  the  matter  was  like  to  fall,  were  of  a yet 
more  favourable  tenor.  He  represented  that  lenity  in  this 
case  would  be  equally  politic  and  popular,  whereas,  con- 
sidering the  high  respect  with  which  the  rites  of  interment 
are  regarded  in  Scotland,  any  severity  exercised  against 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood  for  protecting  those  of  his  fa- 
ther from  interruption,  would  be  on  all  sides  most  unfa- 
vourably construed.  And,  finally,  assuming  the  language 
of  a generous  and  high-spirited  man,  he  made  it  his  par- 
ticular request  that  this  affair  should  be  passed  over  with- 
out severe  notice.  He  alluded  with  delicacy  to  the  pre- 
dicament in  which  he  himself  stood  with  young  Ravens- 
wood, as  having  succeeded  in  the  long  train  of  litigation 
by  which  the  fortunes  of  that  noble  house  had  been  so 
much  reduced,  and  confessed  it  would  be  most  peculiarly 
acceptable  to  his  own  feelings,  could  he  find  means  in 
6 VOL.  I. 


62  TAXES  OP  MY  LANDLORD. 

some  sort  to  counterbalance  the  disadvantages  which  he 
had  occasioned  the  family,  though  only  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  just  and  lawful  rights.  He  therefore  made  it  his 
particular  and  personal  request  that  the  matter  should  have 
no  further  consequences,  and  insinuated  a desire  that  he 
himself  should  have  the  merit  of  having  put  a stop  to  it 
by  his  favourable  report  and  intercession.  It  was  partic- 
ularly remarkable,  that,  contrary  to  his  uniform  practice, 
he  made  no  special  communication  to  Lady  Ashton  upon 
the  subject  of  the  tumult ; and  although  he  mentioned  the 
-alarm  which  Lucy  had  received  from  one  of  the  wild  cat- 
tle, yet  he  gave  no  detailed  account  of  an  incident  so  in- 
teresting and  terrible. 

There  was  much  surprise  among  Sir  William  Ashton’s 
political  friends  and  colleagues  on  receiving  letters  of  a 
tenor  so  unexpected.  On  comparing  notes  together,  one 
smiled,  one  put  up  his  eye-brows,  a third  nodded  acqui- 
escence in  the  general  wonder,  and  a fourth  asked,  if  they 
were  sure  these  were  all  the  letters  the  Lord  Keeper  had 
written  on  the  subject.  “ It  runs  strangely  in  my  mind, 
my  lords,  that  none  of  these  advices  contain  the  root  of 
the  matter.” 

But  no  secret  letters  of  a contrary  nature  had  been  re- 
ceived, although  the  question  seemed  to  imply  the  possi- 
bility of  their  existence. 

“ Well,”  said  an  old  grey-headed  statesman,  who  had 
contrived,  by  shifting  and  trimming,  to  maintain  his  post 
at  the  steerage  through  all  the  changes  of  course  which 
the  vessel  had  held  for  thirty  years,  “ I thought  Sir  Wil- 
liam would  have  verified  the  auld  Scottish  saying,  6 as  soon 
comes  the  lamb’s  skin  to  market  as  the  auld  tup’s.’  ” 

“We  must  please  him  after  his  own  fashion,”  said 
another,  “ though  it  be  an  unlooked-for  one.” 

“ A wilful  man  maun  hae  his  way,”  answered  the  old 
counsellor. 

“ The  Keeper  will  rue  this  before  year  and  day  are 
out,”  said  a third  ; “ the  Master  of  Ravenswood  is  the 
lad  to  wind  him  a pirn.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


63 


“ Why,  what  would  you  do,  my  lords,  with  the  poor 
young  fellow  9”  said  a noble  Marquis  present  ; “ the 
Lord  Keeper  has  got  all  his  estates — he  has  not  a cross 
to  bless  himself  with.” 

On  which  the  ancient  Lord  Turntippet  replied, 

1 If  he  hasna  gear  to  fine, 

He  has  shins  to  pine — 

and  that  was  our  way  before  the  revolution — Luitur  cum 
persona , qui  lucre  non  potest  cum  crumena — Hegh,  my 
lords,  that’s  gude  law  Latin.” 

“ I can  see  no  motive,”  replied  the  Marquis,  “ that  any 
noble  lord  can  have  for  urging  this  matter  farther  ; let  the 
Lord  Keeper  have  the  power  to  deal  in  it  as  he  pleases.” 
“ Agree,  agree — remit  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  with  any 
other  person  for  fashion’s  sake — Lord  Hirplehooly,  who 
is  bed-ridden — one  to  be  a quorum — Make  your  entry  in 
the  minutes,  Mr.  Clerk. — And  now,  my  lords,  there  is 
that  young  scatter-good,  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw’s  fine  to  be 
disponed  upon — I suppose  it  goes  to  my  Lord  Treasurer.” 
“ Shame  be  in  my  meal-poke  then,”  exclaimed  Lord 
Turntippet,  “ and  your  hand  aye  in  the  nook  of  it.  I had 
set  that  down  for  a bye  bit  between  meals  for  mysell.” 

“ To  use  one  of  your  favourite  saws,  my  lord,”  replied 
the  Marquis,  “ you  are  like  the  miller’s  dog,  that  licks  his 
lips  before  the  bag  is  untied — the  man  is  not  fined  yet.” 
“ But  that  costs  but  twa  skartes  of  a pen,”  said  Lord 
Turntippit ; “ and  surely  there  isnae  noble  lord  that  will 
presume  to  say,  that  I,  wha  hae  complied  wi’  a’  compli- 
ances, tane  all  manner  of  tests,  abjured  all  that  was  to  be 
abjured,  and  sworn  a’  that  was  to  be  sworn,  for  these 
thirty  years  by-past,  sticking  fast  by  my  duty  to  the  stale 
through  good  report  and  bad  report,  shouldna  hae  some- 
thing now  and  then  to  synd  my  mouth  wi’  after  sic  drouthy 
wark.” 

“ It  would  be  very  unreasonable  indeed,  my  lord,”  re- 
plied the  Marquis,  “ had  we  either  thought  that  your  lord- 
ship’s drought  could  by  any  possibility  be  quenched,  or 


64 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


observed  anything  stick  in  your  throat  that  required 
washing  down.” 

And  so  we  close  the  scene  of  the  Privy-council  of  that 
period. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

For  this  are  all  these  warriors  come, 

To  hear  an  idle  tale  ; 

And  o;er  our  death-accustomed  arms 

Shall  silly  tears  prevail  ? Henry  Mackenzie . 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  when  the  Lord  Keeper  and 
his  daughter  were  saved  from  such  imminent  peril,  two 
strangers  were  seated  in  the  most  private  apartment  of  a 
small  obscure  inn,  or  rather  alehouse,  called  the  Tod’s 
Den,  about  three  or  four  miles  from  the  Castle  of  Ravens- 
wood,  and  as  far  from  the  ruinous  tower  of  Wolf’s  Crag, 
betwixt  which  two  places  it  was  situated. 

One  of  these  strangers  was  about  forty  years  of  age, 
tall,  and  thin  in  the  flanks,  with  an  aquiline  nose,  dark  pen- 
etrating eyes,  and  a shrewd  but  sinister  cast  of  counte- 
nance. The  other  was  about  fifteen  years  younger,  short, 
stout,  ruddy-faced,  and  red-haired,  with  an  open,  resolute, 
and  cheerful  eye,  to  which  careless  and  fearless  freedom, 
and  inward  daring,  gave  fire  and  expression,  notwithstand- 
ing its  light  grey  colour.  A stoup  of  wine,  for  in  those 
days  it  was  served  out  from  the  cask  in  pewter  flagons, 
was  placed  on  the  table,  and  each  had  his  quaigh  or  bick- 
er* before  him.  But  there  was  little  appearance  of  con- 
viviality. With  folded  arms,  and  looks  of  anxious  expec- 
tation, they  eyed  each  other  in  silence,  each  wrapped  in 
his  own  thoughts,  and  holding  no  communication  with  his 
neighbour. 


* Drinking’  cups,  of  different  sizes,  made  out  of  staves  hooped  together.  The 
quaigh  was  used  chiefly  for  drinking  wine  or  brandy  ; it  might  hold  about  a 
gill,  and  was  often  composed  of  rare  wood,  and  curiously  ornaineuted  with  silver. 


65 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 

At  length  the  younger  broke  silence  by  exclaiming, 
u What  the  foul  fiend  can  detain  the  Master  so  long  he 
must  have  miscarried  in  his  enterprize. — Why  did  you 
dissuade  me  from  going  with  him  V9 

“ One  man  is  enough  to  right  his  own  wrong,”  said  the 
taller  and  older  personage  ; “ we  venture  our  lives  for 
him  in  coming  thus  far  on  such  an  errand.” 

“ You  are  but  a craven  after  all,  Craigengelt,”  answer- 
ed the  younger,  “ and  that’s  what  many  folks  have  thought 
you  before  now.” 

“ But  what  none  has  dared  to  tell  me,”  said  Craigen- 
gelt, laying  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword  ; “ and,  but 
that  I hold  a hasty  man  no  better  than  a fool,  I would” — 
he  paused  for  his  companion’s  answer. 

“ Would  you  V9  said  the  other  coolly  ; “ and  why  do 
you  not  then  V9 

Craigengelt  drew  his  cutlass  an  inch  or  two,  and  then 
returned  it  with  violence  into  the  scabbard — “ Because 
there  is  a deeper  stake  than  the  lives  of  twenty  hair-brain- 
ed  gowks  like  you.” 

“ You  are  right  there,”  said  his  companion,  “ for  if  it 
were  not  that  these  forfeitures,  and  that  last  fine  that  the 
old  driveller  Turntippet  is  gaping  for,  and  which,  I dare 
say,  is  laid  on  by  this  time,  have  fairly  driven  me  out  of 
house,  I were  a coxcomb  and  a cuckoo  to  boot,  to  trust 
your  fair  promises  of  getting  me  a commission  in  the  Irish 
brigade, — what  have  I to  do  with  the  Irish  brigade  9 I am 
a plain  Scotchman,  as  my  father  was  before  me  ; and  my 
grand  aunt,  Lady  Girnington,  cannot  live  for  ever.” 

“ Ay,  Bucklaw,”  observed  Craigengelt,  u but  she  may 
live  for  many  a long  day  ; and  for  your  father,  he  had 
land  and  living,  kept  himself  close  from  wadsetters  and 
money-lenders,  paid  each  man  his  due,  and  lived  on  his 
own.” 

“ And  whose  fault  is  it  that  I have  not  so  too  *?”  said 
Bucklaw — •“  whose  but  the  devil’s  and  your’s,  and  such 
like  as  you,  that  have  led  me  to  the  far  end  of  a fair  es- 
tate ; and  now  I shall  be  obliged,  I suppose,  to  shelter  and 

6*  VOL.  i. 


66 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


shift  about  like  yourself — live  one  week  upon  a line  of  se- 
cret intelligence  from  Saint  Germains — another  upon  a re- 
port of  a rising  in  the  Highlands — get  my  breakfast  and 
morning-draught  of  sack  from  old  Jacobite  ladies,  and 
give  them  locks  of  my  old  wig  for  the  Chevalier’s  hair — 
second  my  friend  in  his  quarrel  till  he  comes  to  the  field, 
and  then  flinch  from  him  lest  so  important  a political 
agent  should  perish  from  the  way.  All  this  I must  do 
for  bread,  besides  calling  myself  a captain  !” 

“ You  think  you  are  making  a fine  speech  now,”  said 
Craigengelt,  “ and  showing  much  wit  at  my  expense.  Is 
starving  or  hanging  better  than  the  life  1 am  obliged  to 
lead,  because  the  present  fortunes  of  the  king  cannot  suf- 
ficiently support  his  envoys  9” 

“ Starving  is  honester,  Craigengelt,  and*  hanging  is  like 
to  be  the  end  on’t — But  what  you  mean  to  make  of  this 
poor  fellow  Ravenswood,  I know  not — he  has  no  money 
left,  any  more  than  I — his  lands  are  all  pawned  and  pledg- 
ed, and  the  interest  eats  up  the  rents,  and  is  not  satisfied  ; 
and  what  do  you  hope  to  make  by  meddling  in  his  affairs.” 

“ Content  yourself,  Bucklaw  ; I know  my  business,” 
replied  Craigengelt.  “ Besides  that  his  name,  and  his 
father’s  services  in  1689,  will  make  such  an  acquisition 
sound  well  both  at  Versailles  and  Saint  Germains — you 
will  also  please  be  informed,  that  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood is  a very  different  kind  of  a young  fellow  from  you. 
He  has  parts  and  address,  as  well  as  courage  and  talents, 
and  will  present  himself  abroad  like  a young  man  of 
head  as  well  as  heart,  who  knows  something  more  than 
the  speed  of  a horse  or  the  flight  of  a hawk.  I have  lost 
credit  of  late,  by  bringing  over  no  one  that  had  sense  to 
know  more  than  how  to  unharbour  a stag,  or  take  and 
reclaim  an  eyeass.  The  Master  has  education,  sense, 
and  penetration.” 

“ And  yet  is  not  wise  enough  to  escape  the  tricks  of  a 
kidnapper,  Craigengelt  9 — But  don’t  be  angry  ; you  know 
you  will  not  fight,  and  so  it  is  as  well  to  leave  your  hilt  in 
peace  and  quiet,  and  tell  me  in  sober  guise  how  you  drew 
the  Master  into  your  confidence  9” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


67 


“ By  flattering  his  love  of  vengeance,  Bucklaw.  He 
has  always  distrusted  me,  but  1 watched  my  time,  and 
struck  while  his  temper  was  red-hot  with  the  sense  of  in- 
sult and  of  wrong.  He  goes  now  to  expostulate,  as  he 
says,  and  perhaps  thinks,  with  Sir  William  Ashton. — I 
say,  that  if  they  meet,  and  the  lawyer  puts  him  to  his  de- 
fence, the  Master  will  kill  him  ; for  he  had  that  sparkle 
in  his  eye  wThich  never  deceives  you  when  you  would  read 
a man’s  purpose.  At  any  rate,  he  will  give  him  such  a 
bullying  as  will  be  construed  into  an  assault  on  a privy- 
counsellor  ; so  there  will  be  a total  breach  betwixt  him 
and  government ; Scotland  will  be  too  hot  for  him,  France 
will  gain  him,  and  we  will  all  set  sail  together  in  the  French 
brig  L’Espoir,  w7hich  is  hovering  for  us  off  Eyemouth.” 
“ Content  am  I,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ Scotland  has  little 
left  that  I care  about ; and  if  carrying  the  Master  with  us 
will  get  us  a better  reception  in  France,  why,  so  be  it,  a 
God’s  name.  I doubt  our  own  merits  will  procure  us 
slender  preferment ; and  I trust  he  will  send  a ball  through 
the  Keeper’s  head  before  he  joins  us.  One  or  two  of 
these  scoundrel  statesmen  should  be  shot  once  a year,  just 
to  keep  the  others  on  their  good  behaviour.” 

“ That  is  very  true,”  replied  Craigengelt ; “ and  it  re- 
minds me  that  I must  go  and  see  that  our  horses  have  been 
fed,  and  are  in  readiness  ; for,  should  such  deed  be  done, 
it  will  be  no  time  for  grass  to  grow  beneath  their  heels.” 
He  proceeded  as  far  as  the  door,  then  turned  back  with  a 
look  of  earnestness,  and  said  to  Bucklaw,  “ Whatever 
should  come  of  this  business,  I am  sure  you  will  do  me 
the  justice  to  remember,  that  1 said  nothing  to  the  Master 
which  could  imply  my  accession  to  any  act  of  violence 
which  he  may  take  it  into  his  head  to  commit.” 

“ No,  no,  not  a single  word  like  accession,”  replied 
Bucklaw  ; “ you  know  too  well  the  risk  belonging  to  these 
two  terrible  words,  art  and  part.”  Then,  as  if  to  himself, 
he  recited  the  following  lines  : 

“ The  dial  spoke  not,  but  it  made  shrewd  signs, 

And  pointed  hill  upon  the  stroke  of  murder 


68 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ What  is  that  you  are  talking  to  yourself  9”  said 
Craigengelt,  turning  back  with  some  anxiety. 

“ Nothing — only  two  lines  I have  heard  upon  the  stage,” 
replied  his  companion. 

“ Bucklaw,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ I sometimes  think  you 
should  have  been  a stage-player  yourself ; all  is  fancy  and 
frolic  with  you.” 

“ I have  often  thought  so  myself,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ I 
believe  it  would  be  safer  than  acting  with  you  in  The  Fatal 
Conspiracy. — But  away,  play  your  own  part,  and  look 
after  the  horses  like  a groom  as  you  are. — A play-actor  ! 
a stage-player  ! that  would  have  deserved  a stab,  but  that 
Craigengelt’s  a coward — And  yet  I should  like  the  profes- 
sion well  enough — Stay — let  me  see — ay — I would  come 
out  in  Alexander — 

1 Thus  from  the  grave  I rise  to  save  my  love, 

Draw  all  vour  swords,  and  quick  as  lightning  move  ; 

When  I rush  on,  sure  none  will  dare  to  stay, 

7Tis  love  commands,  and  glory  leads  the  way.’  n 

As  with  a voice  of  thunder,  and  his  hand  upon  his 
sword,  Bucklaw  repeated  the  ranting  couplets  of  poor  Lee, 
Craigengelt  re-entered  with  a face  of  alarm. 

“ We  are  undone,  Bucklaw  ! the  Master’s  led  horse 
has  cast  himself  over  his  halter  in  the  stable,  and  is  dead 
lame — his  hackney  will  be  set  up  with  the  day’s  work,  and 
now  he  has  no  fresh  horse  ; he  will  never  get  off.” 

“ Egad  there  will  be  no  moving  with  the  speed  of  light- 
ning this  bout,”  said  Bucklaw,  drily.  “ But  stay,  you 
can  give  him  yours.” 

“ What,  arid  be  taken  myself  9 I thank  you  for  the 
proposal,”  said  Craigengelt. 

“ Why,  if  the  Lord  Keeper  should  have  met  with  a 
mischance,  which  for  my  part  I cannot  suppose,  for  the 
Master  is  not  the  lad  to  shoot  an  old  and  unarmed  man — 
but  if  there  should  have  been  a fray  at  the  Castle,  you 
are  neither  $xt  nor  part  in  it,  you  know,  so  have  nothing 
to  fear.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


69 


“ True,  true,”  answered  the  other,  with  embarrassment ; 
“ but  consider  my  commission  from  Saint  Germains.” 

“ Which  many  men  think  is  a commission  of  your  own 
making,  noble  captain.  Well,  if  you  will  not  give  him 
your  horse,  why,  d — n it,  he  must  have  mine.” 

“ Yours  9”  said  Craigengelt. 

“ Ay,  mine,”  repeated  Bucklaw  ; “ it  shall  never  be 
said  that  I agreed  to  back  a gentleman  in  a little  affair  of 
honour,  and  neither  helped  him  on  with  it  nor  off  from  it.” 
“ You  will  give  him  your  horse  9 and  have  you  consid- 
ered the  loss  9” 

“ Loss  ! why  Grey  Gilbert  cost  me  twenty  Jacobuses, 
that’s  true  ; but  then  his  hackney  is  worth  something,  and 
his  Black  Moor  is  worth  twice  as  much  were  he  sound, 
and  I know  how  to  handle  him. — Take  a fat  sucking  mas- 
tiff whelp,  flay  and  bowel  him,  stuff  the  body  full  of  black 
and  grey  snails,  roast  a reasonable  time,  and  baste  with 
oil  of  spikenard,  saffron,  cinnamon  and  honey,  anoint  with 

the  dripping,  working  it  in” 

“ Yes,  Bucklaw,  but  in  the  meanwhile,  before  the  sprain 
is  cured,  nay,  before  the  whelp  is  roasted,  you  will  be 
caught  and  hanged.  Depend  on  it,  the  chase  will  be  hard 
after  Ravenswood.  I wish  we  had  made  our  place  of 
rendezvous  nearer  to  the  coast.” 

“ On  my  faith  then,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ I had  best  go  off 
just  now,  and  leave  my  horse  for  him — Stay,  stay,  he 
comes,  1 hear  a horse’s  feet.” 

“ Are  you  sure  there  is  only  one  9”  said  Craigengelt ; 
“ I fear  there  is  a chase  ; I think  I hear  three  or  four  gal- 
loping together  ; I am  sure  I hear  more  horses  than  one.” 
u Pooh,  pooh,  it  is  the  wench  of  the  house  that  is  clat- 
tering to  the  well  in  her  clogs  ; by  my  faith,  captain, 
you  should  give  up  both  your  captainship  and  your  secret 
service,  for  you  are  as  easily  scared  as  a wild  goose.  But 
here  comes  the  Master  alone,  and  looking  as  gloomy  as  a 
night  in  November.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  entered  the  room  accord- 
ingly, his  cloak  muffled  around  him,  his  amts  folded,  his 
looks  stern,  and  at  the  same  time  dejected.  He  flung  his 


70 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


cloak  from  him  as  he  entered,  threw  himself  upon  a chair, 
and  appeared  sunk  in  a profound  reverie. 

“ What  has  happened  9 What  have  you  done  9”  was 
hastily  demanded  by  Craigengelt  and  Bucklaw  in  the  same 
moment. 

“ Nothing,”  was  the  short  and  sullen  answer. 

“ Nothing  9 and  left  us,  determined  to  call  the  old  vil- 
lain to  account  for  all  the  injuries  that  you,  we,  and  the 
country  have  received  at  his  hand  9 Have  you  seen  him  ?” 
“ I have,”  replied  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
u Seen  him  9 and  come  away  without  settling  scores 
which  have  been  so  long  due  9”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ I would 
not  have  expected  that  at  the  hand  of  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood.” 

“ No  matter  what  you  expected,”  replied  Ravenswood  ; 
“ it  is  not  to  you,  sir,  that  I shall  be  disposed  to  render 
any  reason  for  my  conduct.” 

“ Patience,  Bucklaw,”  said  Craigengelt,  interrupting 
his  companion,  who  seemed  about  to  make  an  angry  reply. 
“ The  Master  has  been  interrupted  in  his  purpose  by  some 
accident  ; but  he  must  excuse  the  anxious  curiosity  of 
friends,  who  are  devoted  to  his  cause  like  you  and  me.” 
“ Friends,  Captain  Craigengelt  !”  retorted  Ravens- 
wood haughtily  ; “ I am  ignorant  what  familiarity  has 
passed  betwixt  us  to  entitle  you  to  use  that  expression. 
I think  our  friendship  amounts  to  this,  that  we  agreed  to 
leave  Scotland  together  so  soon  as  I should  have  visited 
the  alienated  mansion  of  my  fathers,  and  had  an  interview 
with  its  present  possessor,  I will  not  call  him  proprietor.” 
“ Very  true,  Master,”  answered  Bucklaw  ; “ and  as 
we  thought  you  had  a mind  to  do  something  to  put  your 
neck  in  jeopardy,  Craig  and  I very  courteously  agreed  to 
tarry  for  you,  although  ours  might  run  some  risk  in  con- 
sequence. As  to  Craig,  indeed,  it  does  not  very  much 
signify,  he  had  gallows  written  on  his  brow  in  the  hour  of 
his  birth  ; but  I should  not  like  to  discredit  my  parentage 
by  coming  to  such  an  end  in  another  man’s  cause.” 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ I am 
sorry  if  1 have  occasioned  you  any  inconvenience,  but  I 


THE  BRIDE  OE  LAMMERMOOR. 


71 


must  claim  the  right  of  judging  what  is  best  for  my  own 
affairs,  without  rendering  any  explanations  to  any  one.  I 
have  altered  my  mind,  and  do  not  design  to  leave  the 
country  this  season.” 

“ Not  to  leave  the  country,  Master  !”  exclaimed  Craig- 
engelt.  “ Not  to  go  over,  after  all  the  trouble  and  ex- 
pense I have  incurred — after  all  the  risk  of  discovery,  and 
the  expense  of  freight  and  demurrage  !” 

“ Sir,”  replied  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ when  I 
designed  to  leave  this  country  in  this  haste,  I made  use  of 
your  obliging  offer  to  procure  me  means  of  conveyance  ; 
but  I do  not  recollect  that  I pledged  myself  to  go  off,  if  I 
found  occasion  to  alter  my  mind.  For  your  trouble  on 
my  account,  I am  sorry,  and  I thank  you  ; your  expense,” 
he  added,  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  “ admits  a 
more  solid  compensation — freight  and  demurrage  are  mat- 
ters with  which  1 am  unacquainted,  Captain  Craigengelt, 
but  take  my  purse  and  pay  yourself  according  to  your  own 
conscience.”  And  accordingly  he  tendered  a purse  with 
some  gold  in  it  to  the  soi-disant  captain. 

But  here  Bucklaw  interposed  ir*  his  turn.  “ Your  fin- 
gers, Craigie,  seem  to  itch  for  that  same  piece  of  green 
net-work,”  said  he  ; “ but  I make  my  vow  to  God,  that 
if  they  offer  to  close  upon  it,  I will  chop  them  off  with  my 
whinger.  Since  the  Master  has  changed  his  mind,  I sup- 
pose we  need  stay  here  no  longer  ; but  in  the  first  place 

I beg  leave  to  tell  him ” 

“ Tell  him  anything  you  will,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ if 
you  will  first  allow  me  to  state  the  inconveniences  to  which 
he  will  expose  himself  by  quitting  our  society,  to  remind 
him  of  the  obstacles  to  his  remaining  here,  and  of  the  diffi- 
culties attending  his  proper  introduction  at  Versailles  and 
Saint  Germains,  without  the  countenance  of  those  who 
have  established  useful  connections.” 

“ Besides  forfeiting  the  friendship,”  said  Bucklaw7,  “ of 
at  least  one  man  of  spirit  and  honour.” 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ permit  me  once 
more  to  assure  you,  that  you  have  been  pleased  to  attach 
to  our  temporary  connection  more  importance  than  1 ever 


72 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


meant  that  it  should  have.  When  I repair  to  foreign 
courts,  I shall  not  need  the  introduction  of  an  intriguing 
adventurer,  nor  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  set  value  on  the 
friendship  of  a hot-headed  bully.1’  With  these  words, 
and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  left  the  apartment, 
remounted  his  horse,  and  was  heard  to  ride  off. 

“ Mortbleu  !”  said  Captain  Craigengelt,  “ my  recruit 
is  lost.” 

“ Ay,  captain,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ the  salmon  is  off  with 
hook  and  all.  But  I will  after  him,  for  I have  had  more 
of  his  insolence  than  I can  well  digest.” 

Craigengelt  offered  to  accompany  him,  but  Bucklaw 
replied,  “ No,  no,  captain,  keep  you  the  cheek  of  the 
chimney-nook  till  I come  back  ; its  good  sleeping  in  a 
haill  skin. 

1 Little  kens  the  auld  wife  that  sits  by  the  fire, 

How  cauld  the  wind  blaws  in  hurle-burle  swire/  ” 

And  singing  as  he  went,  he  left  the  apartment. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Now,  Billy  Bewick,  keep  good  heart, 

And  of  thy  talking  let  me  be  ; 

But  if  thou  art  a man,  as  1 am  sure  thou  art, 

Come  over  the  dike  and  fight  with  me. 

Old  Ballad. 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  had  mounted  the  ambling 
hackney  which  he  before  rode,  on  finding  the  accident 
which  had  happened  to  his  led  horse,  and,  for  the  animal’s 
ease,  was  proceeding  at  a slow  pace  from  the  Tod’s  Den 
towards  his  old  tower  of  Wolfs  Crag,  when  he  heard  the 
galloping  of  a horse  behind  him,  and  looking  back,  per- 
ceived that  he  was  pursued  by  young  Bucklaw,  who  had 
been  delayed  a few  minutes  in  the  pursuit  by  the  irresisti- 
ble temptation  of  giving  the  hostler  at  the  Tod’s  Den  some 


THE  BRIDE  OE  IAMMERMOOR. 


73 


recipe  for  treating  the  lame  horse.  This  brief  delay  he 
had  made  up  by  hard  galloping,  and  now  overtook  the 
Master,  where  the  road  traversed  a waste  moor.  “ Halt, 
sir,”  cried  Bucklaw  ; “I  am  no  political  agent — no  Cap- 
tain Craigengelt,  whose  life  is  too  important  to  be  hazard- 
ed in  defence  of  his  honour.  I am  Frank  Hayston  of 
Bucklaw,  and  no  man  injures  me  by  word,  deed,  sign,  or 
look,  but  he  must  render  me  an  account  of  it.” 

“ This  is  all  very  well,  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,”  re- 
plied the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  in  a tone  the  most  calm 
and  indifferent  ; “ but  I have  no  quarrel  with  you,  and 
desire  to  have  none.  Our  roads  homeward,  as  well  as 
our  roads  through  life,  lie  in  different  directions  ; there  is 
no  occasion  for  us  crossing  each  other.” 

“ Is  there  not  9”  said  Bucklaw,  impetuously.  “ By 
heaven  ! but  I say  that  there  is  though — you  called  us 
intriguing  adventurers.” 

“ Be  correct  in  your  recollection,  Mr.  Hayston  ; it  was 
to  your  companion  only  I applied  that  epithet,  and  you 
know  him  to  be  no  better.” 

“ And  what  then  He  was  my  companion  for  the  time, 
and  no  man  shall  insult  my  companion,  right  or  wrong, 
while  he  is  in  my  company.” 

“ Then,  Mr.  Hayston,”  replied  Ravenswood,  with  the 
same  composure,  “ you  should  choose  your  society  better, 
or  you  are  like  to  have  much  work  in  your  capacity  of 
their  champion.  Go  home,  sir,  sleep,  and  have  more 
reason  in  your  wrath  to-morrow.” 

“ Not  so,  Master,  you  have  mistaken  your  man  ; high 
airs  and  wise  saws  shall  not  carry  it  off  thus.  Besides, 
you  termed  me  bully,  and  you  shall  retract  the  word  be- 
fore we  part.” 

“ Faith,  scarcely,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ unless  you 
show  me  better  reason  for  thinking  myself  mistaken  than 
you  are  now  producing.” 

“ Then,  Master,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ though  I should  be 
sorry  to  offer  it  to  a man  of  your  quality,  if  you  will  not 
justify  your  incivility,  or  retract  it,  or  name  a place  of 
7 VOL.  i. 


74 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


meeting,  you  must  here  undergo  the  hard  word  and  the 
hard  blow.” 

“ Neither  will  be  necessary,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ I 
am  satisfied  with  what  1 have  done  to  avoid  an  affair  with 
you.  If  you  are  serious,  this  place  will  serve  as  well  as 
another.” 

“ Dismount  then,  and  draw,”  said  Bucklaw,  setting  him 
an  example.  “ I always  thought  and  said  you  were  a 
pretty  man  ; I should  be  sorry  to  report  you  otherwise.” 

“ You  shall  have  no  reason,  sir,”  said  Ravenswood, 
alighting,  and  putting  himself  into  a posture  of  defence. 

Their  swords  crossed,  and  the  combat  commenced  with 
great  spirit  on  the  part  of  Bucklawr,  who  was  well  accus- 
tomed to  affairs  of  the  kind,  and  distinguished  by  address 
and  dexterity  at  his  weapon.  In  the  present  case,  how- 
ever, he  did  not  use  his  skill  to  advantage  ; for,  having 
lost  temper  at  the  cool  and  contemptuous  planner  in  which 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood  had  long  refused,  and  at 
length  granted  him  satisfaction,  and  urged  by  his  impa- 
tience, lie  adopted  the  part  of  an  assailant  with  inconsid- 
erate eagerness.  The  Master,  with  equal  skill,  and  much 
greater  composure,  remained  chiefly  on  the  defensive,  and 
even  declined  to  avail  himself  of  one  or  two  advantages 
afforded  him  by  the  eagerness  of  his  adversary.  At 
length,  in  a desperate  lunge,  which  he  followed  with  an 
attempt  to  close,  Bucklaw’s  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell  on 
the  short  grassy  turf  on  which  they  were  fighting.  “ Take 
your  life,  sir,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ and 
mend  it,  if  you  can.” 

“ It  would  be  but  a cobbled  piece  of  work,  I fear,”  said 
Bucklaw,  rising  slowly  and  gathering  up  his  sword,  much 
less  disconcerted  with  the  issue  of  the  combat  than  could 
have  been  expected  from  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper. 
“ I thank  you  for  my  life,  Master,”  he  pursued.  “ There 
is  my  hand,  I bear  no  ill  will  to  you  either  for  my  bad  luck, 
or  your  better  swordmanship.” 

The  Master  looked  steadily  at  him  for  an  instant,  then 
extended  his  hand  to  him. — “ Bucklaw,”  he  said,  “ you 
are  a generous  fellow,  and  I have  done  you  wrong.  1 


THE  BRIDE  OF  JAMMERMOOR. 


75 


heartily  ask  your  pardon  for  the  expression  which  offend- 
ed you  ; it  was  hastily  and  incautiously  uttered,  and  I am 
convinced  it  is  totally  misapplied.” 

“ Are  you  indeed,  Master  9”  said  Bucklaw,  his  face 
resuming  at  once  its  natural  expression  of  light-hearted 
carelessness  and  audacity  ; “ that  is  more  than  I expect- 
ed of  you,  for,  Master,  men  say,  you  are  not  ready  to 
retract  your  opinions  and  your  language.” 

“ Not  when  I have  well  considered  them,”  said  the 
Master. 

“ Then  you  are  a little  wiser  than  I am,  for  I always 
give  my  friend  satisfaction  first,  and  explanation  after- 
wards. If  one  of  us  falls,  all  accounts  are  settled  ; if  not, 
men  are  never  so  ready  for  peace  as  after  war.  But  what 
does  that  bawling  brat  of  a boy  want  9”  said  Bucklaw. 
“ I wish  to  heaven  he  had  come  a few  minutes  sooner  ! 
and  yet  it  must  have  been  ended  some  time,  and  perhaps 
this  way  is  as  well  as  any  other.” 

As  he  spoke,  the  boy  he  mentioned  came  up,  cudgel- 
ling an  ass,  on  which  he  was  mounted,  to  the  top  of  its 
speed,  and  sending,  like  one  of  Ossian’s  heroes,  his  voice 
before  him, — “ Gentlemen, — gentlemen,  save  yourselves, 
for  the  gudewife  bade  us  tell  ye  there  were  folk  in  her 
house  had  ta’en  Captain  Craigengelt,  and  were  seeking 
for  Bucklaw,  and  that  ye  behoved  to  ride  for  it.” 

“ By  my  faith,  and  that’s  very  true,  my  man,”  said 
Bucklaw  5 “ and  there’s  a silver  sixpence  for  your  news, 
and  I would  give  any  man  twice  as  much  would  tell  me 
which  way  I should  ride.” 

“ That  will  I,  Bucklaw,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ ride 
home  to  Wolfs  Crag  with  me  ; there  are  places  in  the 
old  tower  where  you  might  lie  hid,  were  a thousand  men 
to  seek  you.” 

“ But  that  will  bring  you  into  trouble  yourself,  Master  ; 
and  unless  you  be  in  th^  Jacobite  scrape  already,  it  is 
quite  needless  for  me  to  drag  you  in.” 

“ Not  a whit  ; I have  nothing  to  fear.” 

“ Then  I will  ride  with  you  blithely,  for,  to  say  the 
truth,  I do  not  know  the  rendezvous  that  Craigie  was  to 


76 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


guide  us  to  this  night ; and  I am  sure  that,  if  he  is  taken, 
he  will  tell  all  the  truth  on  me,  and  twenty  lies  on  you,  in 
order  to  save  himself  from  the  withie.” 

They  mounted,  and  rode  off  in  company  accordingly, 
striking  off  the  ordinary  road,  and  holding  their  way  by 
wild  moorish  unfrequented  paths,  with  which  the  gentle- 
men were  well  acquainted  from  the  exercise  of  the  chase, 
but  through  which  others  would  have  had  much  difficulty 
in  tracing  their  course.  They  rode  for  some  time  in  si- 
lence, making  such  haste  as  the  condition  of  Ravenswood’s 
horse  permitted,  until  night  having  gradually  closed  around 
them,  they  discontinued  their  speed,  both  from  the  diffi- 
culty of  discovering  their  path,  and  from  the  hope  that  they 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit  or  observation. 

“ And  now  that  we  have  drawm  bridle  a bit,”  said  Buck- 
law,  “ I would  fain  ask  you  a question,  Master.” 

“ Ask,  and  welcome,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ but  forgive 
me  not  answering  it,  unless  I think  proper.” 

“ Well,  it  is  simply  this,”  answered  his  late  antagonist, 
— “ What  in  the  name  of  old  Sathan,  could  make  you, 
who  stand  so  highly  on  your  reputation,  think  for  a mo- 
ment of  drawing  up  with  such  a rogue  as  Craigengelt,  and 
such  a scape-grace  as  folks  call  Bucklaw  9” 

“ Simply,  because  I was  desperate,  and  sought  des- 
perate associates.” 

“ And  what  made  you  break  off  from  us  at  the  near- 
est 9”  again  demanded  Bucklaw. 

“ Because  I had  changed  my  mind,”  said  the  Master, 
“ and  renounced  my  enterprize,  at  least  for  the  present. 
And  now  that  I have  answered  your  questions  fairly  and 
frankly,  tell  me  what  makes  you  associate  with  Craigen- 
gelt, so  much  beneath  you  both  in  birth  and  spirit  9” 

“ In  plain  terms,”  answered  Bucklaw,  “ because  I am 
a fool,  who  have  gambled  away  my  land  in  these  times. 
My  grand-aunt,  Lady  Girnington,  has  ta’en  a new  tack  of 
life,  I think,  and  I could  only  hope  to  get  something  by  a 
change  of  government.  Craigie  was  a sort  of  gambling 
acquaintance  ; he  saw  my  condition  ; and,  as  the  devil 
is  always  at  one’s  elbow,  told  me  fifty  lies  about  his  ere- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


77 


dentials  from  Versailles,  and  his  interest  at  Saint  Ger- 
mains, promised  me  a captain’s  commission  at  Paris,  and 
I have  been  ass  enough  to  put  my  thumb  under  his  belt. 
I dare  say,  by  this  time,  he  has  told  a dozen  pretty  stories 
of  me  to  the  government.  And  this  is  what  1 have  got 
by  wine,  women,  and  dice,  cocks,  dogs,  and  horses. 

“ Yes,  Bucklaw,”  said  the  Master,  “ you  have  indeed 
nourished  in  your  bosom  the  snakes  that  are  now  sting- 
ing you.” 

“ That’s  home  as  well  as  true,  Master,”  replied  his 
companion  ; “ but,  by  your  leave,  you  have  nursed  in 
your  bosom  one  great  goodly  snake  that  has  swallowed  all 
the  rest,  and  is  as  sure  to  devour  you  as  my  half  dozen 
are  to  make  a meal  on  all  that’s  left  of  Bucklaw,  which 
is  but  what  lies  between  bonnet  and  boot  heel.” 

“ I must  not,”  answered  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
“ challenge  the  freedom  of  speech  in  which  I have  set 
example.  What,  to  speak  without  a metaphor,  do  you 
call  this  monstrous  passion  which  you  charge  me  with 
fostering  9” 

“ Revenge,  my  good  sir,  revenge,  which,  if  it  be  as 
gentleman-like  a sin  as  wine  and  wassail,  with  all  their  et 
cceteras , is  equally  unchristian,  and  not  so  bloodless.  It 
is  better  breaking  a park-pale  to  watch  a doe  or  damsel, 
than  to  shoot  an  old  man.” 

“ I deny  the  purpose,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 
“ On  my  soul,  I had  no  such  intention  ; I meant  but  to 
confront  the  oppressor  ere  I left  my  native  land,  and  up- 
braid him  with  his  tyranny  and  its  consequences.  I would 
have  stated  my  wrongs  so  that  they  would  have  shaken 
his  soul  within  him.” 

“ Yes,”  answered  Bucklaw,  “ and  he  would  have  col- 
lared you,  and  cried  help,  and  then  you  would  have  shaken 
the  soul  out  of  him,  I suppose.  Your  very  look  and  man- 
ner would  have  frightened  the  old  man  to  death.” 

“ Consider  the  provocation,”  answered  Ravenswood, — 
“ consider  the  ruin  and  death  procured  and  caused  by  his 
hard-hearted  cruelty — an  ancient  house  destroyed,  an 

7*  VOL.  i. 


78 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


affectionate  father  murdered.  Why, .in  our  old  Scottish 
days,  he  that  sat  quiet  under  such  wrongs,  would  have 
been  held  neither  fit  to  back  a friend  nor  face  a foe.” 

“ Well,  Master,  I am  glad  to  see  that  the  devil  deals 
as  cunningly  with  other  folk  as  he  does  with  me  ; for 
whenever  I am  about  to  commit  any  folly,  he  persuades 
me  it  is  the  most  necessary,  gallant,  gentleman-like  thing 
on  earth,  and  I am  up  to  saddlegirths  in  the  bog  before  I 
see  that  the  ground  is  soft.  And  you,  Master,  might  have 
turned  out  a murd a homicide,  just  out  of  pure  re- 

spect for  your  father’s  memory.” 

“ There  is  more  sense  in  your  language,  Bucklavv,” 
replied  the  Master,  “ than  might  have  been  expected  from 
your  conduct.  It  is  too  true,  our  vices  steal  upon  us  in 
forms  outwardly  as  fair  as  those  of  the  demons  whom  the 
superstitious  represent  as  intriguing  with  the  human  race, 
and  are  not  discovered  in  their  native  hideousness  until- 
we  have  clasped  them  in  our  arms.” 

“ But  we  may  throw  them  from  us  though,”  said  Buck- 
law,  “ and  that  is  what  I shall  think  of  doing  one  of  these 
days,  that  is  when  old  Lady  Girnington  dies.” 

“ Did  you  ever  hear  the  expression  of  the  English  di- 
vine <?”  said  Ravenswood — “ ‘ Hell  is  paved  with  good 
intentions’— as  much  as  to  say,  they  are  more  often  form- 
ed than  executed.” 

“ Well,”  replied  Bucklaw,  “ but  I will  begin  this  bless- 
ed night,  and  have  determined  not  to  drink  above  one 
quart  of  wine,  unless  your  claret  be  of  extraordinary 
quality.” 

“ You  will  find  little  to  tempt  you  at  Wolfs  Crag,”  said 
the  Master.  “ I know  not  that  I can  promise  you  more 
than  the  shelter  of  my  roof  ; all,  and  more  than  all  our 
stock  of  wine  and  provisions  was  exhausted  at  the  late 
occasion.” 

“ Long  may  it  be  ere  provision  is  needed  for  the  like 
purpose,”  answered  Bucklaw  ; “ but  you  should  not  drink 
up  the  last  flask  at  a dirge  ; there  is  ill  luck  in  that.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR,  79 

“ There  is  ill  luck,  I think,  in  whatever  belongs  to  me,55 
said  Ravenswood.  “ But  yonder  is  Wolfs  Crag,  and 
whatever  it  still  contains  is  at  your  service.” 

The  roar  of  the  sea  had  long  announced  their  approach 
to  the  cliffs,  on  the  summit  of  which,  like  the  nest  of  some 
sea-eagle,  the  founder  of  the  fortalice  had  perched  his 
eyry.  The  pale  moon  which  had  hitherto  been  contend- 
ing with  flitting  clouds,  now  shone  out,  and  gave  them  a 
view  of  the  solitary  and  naked  tower,  situated  on  a pro- 
jecting cliff  that  beetled  on  the  German  Ocean.  On  three 
sides  the  rock  was  precipitous  ; on  the  fourth,  which  was 
that  toward  the  land,  it  had  been  originally  fenced  by  an 
artificial  ditch  and  draw-bridge,  but  the  latter  was  broken 
down  and  ruinous,  and  the  former  had  been  in  part  filled 
up,  so  as  to  allow  passage  for  a horseman  into  the  narrow 
court-yard,  encircled  on  two  sides  with  low  offices  and 
stables,  partly  ruinous,  and  closed  on  the  landward  front 
by  a low  embattled  wall,  while  the  remaining  side  of  the 
quadrangle  was  occupied  by  the  tower  itself,  which,  tall 
and  narrow,  and  built  of  a greyish  stone,  stood  glimmer- 
ing in  the  moonlight,  like  the  sheeted  spectre  of  some  huge 
giant.  A wilder,  or  more  disconsolate  dwelling,  it  was 
perhaps  difficult  to  conceive.  The  sombrous  and  heavy 
sound  of  the  billows,  successively  dashing  against  the 
rocky  beach  at  a profound  distance  beneath,  was  to  the 
ear  what  the  landscape  was  to  the  eye — a symbol  of  un- 
varied and  monotonous  melancholy,  not  unmingled  with 
horror. 

Although  the  night  was  not  far  advanced,  there  was  no 
sign  of  living  inhabitant  about  this  forlorn  abode,  except- 
ing that  one,  and  only  one,  of  the  narrow  and  stanchelled 
windows  which  appeared  at  irregular  heights  and  dis- 
tances in  the  walls  of  the  building,  showed  a small  glim- 
mer of  light. 

“ There,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ sits  the  only  male  do- 
mestic that  remains  to  the  house  of  Ravenswood  ; and  it 
is  well  that  he  does  remain  there,  since  otherwise,  we  had 
little  hope  to  find  either  light  or  fire.  But  follow  me 


80 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


cautiously ; the  road  is  narrow  and  admits  only  one  horse 
in  front.” 

In  effect  the  path  led  along  a kind  of  isthmus,  at  the 
peninsular  extremity  of  which  the  tower  was  situated, 
with  that  exclusive  attention  to  strength  and  security,  in 
preference  to  every  circumstance  of  convenience,  which 
dictated  to  the  Scottish  barons  the  choice  of  their  situa- 
tions, as  well  as  their  style  of  building. 

By  adopting  the  cautious  mode  of  approach  recom- 
mended by  the  proprietor  of  this  wild  hold  they  entered 
the  court-yard  in  safety.  But  it  was  long  ere  the  efforts 
of  Ravenswood,  though  loudly  exerted  by  knocking  at  the 
low-browed  entrance,  and  repeated  shouts  to  Caleb  to 
open  the  gate  and  admit  them,  received  any  answer. 

“ The  old  man  must  be  departed,”  he  began  to  say, 
“ or  fallen  into  some  fit ; for  the  noise  I have  made  would 
have  waked  the  seven  sleepers.” 

At  length  a timid  and  hesitating  voice, replied, — u Mas- 
ter— x\'Iaster  of  Ravenswood,  is  it  you  V9 

“ Yes,  it  is  I,  Caleb  ; open  the  door  quickly.” 

“ But  is  it  you  in  very  blood  and  body  ? Fori  would 
sooner  face  fifty  deevils  as  my  maister’s  ghaist,  or  even 
his  wraith, — wherefore  aroint  ye,  if  ye  were  ten  times  my 
master,  unless  ye  come  in  bodily  shape,  lith  and  limb.” 
“ It  is  I,  you  old  fool,”  answered  Ravenswood,  “ in 
bodily  shape,  and  alive,  save  that  I am  half  dead  with  cold.” 
The  light  at  the  upper  window  disappeared,  and  glanc- 
ing from  loop-hole  to  loop-hole  in  slow  succession,  gave 
intimation  that  the  bearer  was  in  the  act  of  descending 
with  great  deliberation,  a winding  staircase  occupying  one 
of  the  turrets  which  graced  the  angles  of  the  old  tower. 
The  tardiness  of  his  descent  extracted  some  exclamations 
of  impatience  from  Ravenswood,  and  several  oaths  from 
his  less  patient  and  more  mercurial  companion.  Caleb 
again  paused  ere  he  unbolted  the  door,  and  once  more 
asked,  if  they  were  men  of  mould  that  demanded  entrance 
at  this  time  of  night  V9 

“ Were  I near  you,  you  old  fool,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ I 
would  give  you  sufficient  proofs  of  my  bodily  condition.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


81 


“ Open  the  gate,  Caleb,”  said  his  master,  in  a more 
soothing  tone,  partly  from  his  regard  to  the  ancient  and 
faithful  seneschal,  partly  perhaps  because  he  thought  that 
angry  words  would  be  thrown  away,  so  long  as  Caleb  had 
a stout  iron-clenched  oaken  door  betwixt  his  person  and 
the  speakers. 

At  length  Caleb,  with  a trembling  hand,  undid  the  bars, 
opened  the  heavy  door,  and  stood  before  them,  exhibiting 
his  thin  grey  hairs,  bald  forehead,  and  sharp  high  features, 
illuminated  by  a quivering  lamp  which  he  held  in  one 
hand,  while  he  shaded  and  protected  its  flame  with  the 
other.  The  timorous  courteous  glance  which  he  threw 
around  him — the  effect  of  the  partial  light  upon  his  white 
hair  and  illumined  features,  might  have  made  a good 
painting  ; but  our  travellers  were  too  impatient  for  secu- 
rity against  the  rising  storm,  to  permit  them  to  indulge 
themselves  in  studying  the  picturesque.  “ Is  it  you,  my 
dear  master  9 is  it  you  yourself,  indeed  *?”  exclaimed  the 
old  domestic.  “ I am  wae  ye  suld  hae  stude  waiting  at 
your  ain  gate  ; but  wha  wad  hae  thought  o’  seeing  ye  sae 
sune,  and  a strange  gentleman  with  a — (here  he  exclaimed 
apart  as  it  were,  and  to  some  inmate  of  the  tower,  in  a 
voice  not  meant  to  be  heard  by  those  in  the  court) — My- 
sie— Mysie  woman,  stir  for  dear  life,  and  get  the  fire 
mended  ; take  the  auld  three-legged  stool,  or  ony  thing 
that’s  readiest  that  will  make  a lowe. — I doubt  we  are  but 
puirly  provided,  no  expecting  ye  this  some  months,  when 
doubtless  ye  wad  hae  been  received  conform  till  your 
rank,  as  gude  right  is  ; but  natheless” 

“ Natheless,  Caleb,”  said  the  Master,  “ we  must  have 
our  horses  put  up,  and  ourselves  too,  the  best  way  we  can. 
I hope  you  are  not  sorry  to  see  me  sooner  than  you  ex- 
pected V9 

“ Sorry,  my  lord  ! — I am  sure  ye  sail  aye  be  my  lord 
wi’  honest  folk,  as  your  noble  ancestors  hae  been  these 
three  hundred  years,  and  never  asked  a whig’s  leave. — 
Sorry  to  see  the  Lord  of  Ravenswood  at  ane  o’  his  ain 
castles  ! — (Then  again  apart  to  his  unseen  associate  be- 
hind the  screen) — Mysie,  kill  the  brood-hen  without  think- 


82 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ing  twice  on  it,  let  them  care  that  come  ahint. — No  to  say 
it’s  our  best  dwelling,”  he  added,  turning  to  Bucklaw  ; 
“ but  just  a strength  for  the  Lord  of  Ravenswood  to  flee 
until, — that  is,  no  to  flee,  but  to  retreat  until  in  troublous 
times,  like  the  present,  when  it  was  ill  convenient  for  him 
to  live  farther  in  the  country  in  ony  of  his  better  and  mair 
principal  manors  ; but,  for  its  antiquity,  maist  folks  think 
that  the  outside  of  Wolfs  Crag  is  worthy  of  a large 
perusal.” 

“ And  you  are  determined  we  shall  have  time  to  make 
it,”  said  Ravenswood,  somewhat  amused  with  the  shifts 
the  old  man  used  to  detain  them  without  doors,  until  his 
confederate  Mysie  had  made  her  preparations  within. 

“ O,  never  mind  the  outside  of  the  house,  my  good 
friend,”  said  BucklawT  ; “ let’s  see  the  inside,  and  let  our 
horses  see  the  stable,  that’s  all.” 

“ O yes,  sir — ay,  sir, — unquestionably,  sir — my  lord 

and  ony  of  his  honourable  companions” 

“ But  our  horses,  my  old  friend — our  horses ; they  will 
be  dead-foundered  by  standing  here  in  the  cold  after  rid- 
ing hard,  and  mine  is  too  good  to  be  spoiled  $ therefore, 
once  more,  our  horses,”  exclaimed  Bucklaw. 

“ True — ay your  horses — yes — I will  call  the 

grooms  and  sturdily  did  Caleb  roar  till  the  old  tower 
rung  again,  “ John — William — Saunders  ! — The  lads  are 
gane  out,  or  sleeping,”  he  observed,  after  pausing  for  an 
answer,  which  he  knew  that  he  had  no  human  chance  of 
receiving.  “ A’  gaes  wrang  when  the  Master’s  out  bye  ; 
but  I’ll  take  care  o’  your  cattle  rnysell.” 

“ I think  you  had  better,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ other- 
wise I see  little  chance  of  their  being  attended  to  at  all.” 
“ Whisht,  my  lord, — whisht,  for  God’s  sake,”  said 
Caleb,  in  an  imploring  tone,  and  apart  to  his  master ; “ if 
ye  dinna  regard  your  ain  credit,  think  on  mine  ; we’ll  hae 
hard  eneugh  walk  to  make  a decent  night  o’t,  wi’  a’  the 
lies  I can  tell.” 

“ Well,  well,  never  mind,”  said  his  master ; “ go  to  the 
stable.  There  is  hay  and  corn,  I trust  V9 


THE  BKIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


83 


“ Ou  -ay,  plenty  of  hay  and  corn  ;”  this  was  uttered 
boldly  and  aloud,  and,  in  a lower  tone,  44  there  was  some 
half  fous  o’  aits,  and  some  taits  o’  meadow-hay,  left  after 
the  burial.” 

44  Very  well,”  said  Ravenswood,  taking  the  lamp  from 
his  domestic’s  unwilling  hand,  44  I will  show  the  stranger 
up  stairs  myself.” 

“ I canna  think  o’  that,  my  lord  ; — if  ye  wad  but  have 
five  minutes,  or  ten  minutes,  or,  at  maist,  a quarter  of  an 
hour’s  patience,  and  look  at  the  fine  moonlight  prospect 
of  the  Bass  and  North-Berwick  Law  till  I sort  the  horses, 
I would  marshal  fe  up,  as  reason  is  ye  suld  be  mar- 
shalled, your  lordship  and  your  honourable  visiter.  And 
I hae  lockit  up  the  siller  candlesticks,  and  the  lamp  is  not 
fit” 

“ It  will  do  very  well  in  the  meantime,”  said  Ravens- 
wood, 44  and  you  will  have  no  difficulty  for  want  of  light 
in  the  stable,  for,  if  I recollect,  half  the  roof  is  off.” 

44  Very  true,  my  lord,”  replied  the  trusty  adherent,  and 
with  ready  wit  instantly  added,  46  and  the  lazy  sclater 
loons  have  never  come  to  put  it  on  a’  this  while,  your 
lordship.” 

44  If  I were  disposed  to  jest  at  the  calamities  of  my 
house,”  said  Ravenswood,  as  he  led  the  way  up  stairs, 
“ poor  old  Caleb  would  furnish  me  with  ample  means. 
His  passion  consists  in  representing  things  about  our  mis- 
erable menage , not  as  they  are,  but  as,  in  his  opinion,  they 
ought  to  be  ; and,  to  say  the  truth,  I have  been  often  di- 
verted with  the  poor  wretch’s  expedients  to  supply  what 
he  thought  was  essential  for  the  credit  of  the  family,  and 
his  still  more  generous  apologies  for  the  want  of  those 
articles  for  which  his  ingenuity  could  discover  no  substi- 
tute. But  though  the  tower  is  none  of  the  largest,  I shall 
have  some  trouble  without  him  to  find  the  apartment  in 
which  there  is  a fire.” 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  hall. 
44  Here,  at  least,”  he  said  44  there  is  neither  hearth  nor 
harbour.” 


84 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


It  was  indeed  a scene  of  desolation.  A large  vaulted 
room,  the  beams  of  which,  combined  like  those  of  West- 
minster-Hall,  were  rudely  carved  at  the  extremities,  re- 
mained nearly  in  the  situation  in  which  it  had  been  left 
after  the  entertainment  at  Allan  Lord  Ravenswood’s  fu- 
neral. Overturned  pitchers,  and  black  jacks,  and  pewter 
stoups,  and  flagons,  still  cumbered  the  large  oaken  table  ; 
glasses,  those  more  perishable  implements  of  conviviality, 
many  of  which  had  been  voluntarily  sacrificed  by  the 
guests  in  their  enthusiastic  pledges  to  favourite  toasts, 
strewed  the  stone  floor  with  their  fragments.  As  for  Uie 
articles  of  plate,  lent  for  the  purpose  by  friends  and  kins- 
folk those  had  been  carefully  withdrawn  so  soon  as  the 
ostentatious  display  of  festivity,  equally  unnecessary  and 
strangely  timed,  had  been  made  and  ended.  Nothing,  in 
short,  remained  that  indicated  wealth  ; all  the  signs  were 
those  of  recent  wastefulness,  and  present  desolation.  The 
black  cloth  hangings,  which  on  the  late  mournful  occasion, 
replaced  the  tattered  moth-eaten  tapestries,  had  been 
partly  pulled  down,  and,  dangling  from  the  wall  in  irreg- 
ular festoons,  disclosed  the  rough  stone-work  of  the  build- 
ing, unsmoothed  either  by  plaster  or  hewn  stone.  The 
seats  thrown  down,  or  left  in  disorder,  intimated  the  care- 
less confusion  which  had  concluded  the  mournful  revel. 
u This  room,”  said  Ravenswood,  holding  up  the  lamp— 
“ this  room,  Mr.  Hayston,  was  riotous  when  it  should  have 
been  sad  ; it  is  a just  retribution  that  it  should  now  be 
sad  when  it  ought  to  be  cheerful.” 

They  left  this  disconsolate  apartment,  and  went  up 
stairs,  where,  after  opening  one  or  two  doors  in  vain, 
Ravenswood  led  the  way  into  a little  matted  anti-room,  in 
which,  to  their  great  joy,  they  found  a tolerably  good  fire, 
which  Mysie,  by  some  such  expedient  as  Caleb  had  sug- 
gested, had  supplied  with  a reasonable  quantity  of  fuel. 
Glad  at  the  heart  to  see  more  of  comfort  than  the  castle 
had  yet  seemed  to  offer,  Bucklaw  rubbed  his  hands  hearti- 
ly over  the  fire,  and  now  listened  with  more  complacen- 
cy to  the  apologies  which  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
offered.  “ Comfort,”  he  says,  “ I cannot  provide  for 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOU. 


85 


you,  for  I have  it  not  for  myself ; it  is  long  since  these 
walls  have  known  it,  if,  indeed,  they  were  ever  acquainted 
with  it.  Shelter  and  safety,  1 think,  I can  promise  you.” 
“ Excellent  matters,  Master,”  replied  Bucklaw,  “ and, 
with  a mouthful  of  food  and  wine,  positively  all  1 can  re- 
quire to-night.” 

“ I fear,”  said  the  Master,  “ your  supper  will  be  a 
poor  one  ; I hear  the  matter  in  discussion  betwixt  Caleb 
and  Mysie.  Poor  Balderston  is  something  deaf,  amongst 
his  other  accomplishments,  so  that  much  of  what  he 
means  should  be  spoken  aside  is  overheard  by  the  whole 
audience,  and  especially  by  those  from  whom  he  is  most 
anxious  to  conceal  his  private  manoeuvres — Hark  !” 
They  listened,  and  heard  the  old  domestic’s  voice  in 
conversation  with  Mysie  to  the  following  effect.  “ Just 
mak  the  best  o’t,  mak  the  best  o’t,  woman  ; it’s  easy  to 
put  a fair  face  on  ony  thing.” 

“ But  the  auld  brood-hen  ! — she’ll  beasteugh  as  bow- 
strings and  bend-leather.” 

“ Say  ye  made  a mistake — say  ye  made  a mistake,” 
Mysie,”  replied  the  faithful  seneschal,  in  a soothing  and 
undertoned  voice ; “ tak  it  a’  on  yoursell  ; never  let  the 
credit  o’  the  house  suffer.” 

“ But  the  brood-hen,”  remonstrated  Mysie, — “ ou  she’s 
sitting  some  gate  aneath  the  dais  in  the  hall,  and  I am 
feared  to  gae  in  in  the  dark  for  the  bogle ; and  if  I didna 
see  the  bogle,  I could  as  ill  see  the  hen,  for  it’s  pit-mirk, 
and  there’s  no  another  light  in  the  house,  save  that  very 
blessed  lamp  whilk  the  Master  has  in  his  ain  hand.  And 
if  I had  the  hen,  she’s  to  pu’,  and  to  draw,  and  to  dress ; 
how  can  1 do  that,  and  them  sitting  by  the  only  fire  we 
have  V9 

“ Weel,  weel,  Mysie,”  said  the  butler,  “ bide  ye  there 
a wee,  and  I’ll  try  to  get  the  lamp  wiled  away  frae  them.” 
Accordingly,  Caleb  Balderston  entered  the  apartment, 
little  aware  that  so  much  of  his  bye-play  had  been  audi- 
ble there.  “ Well,  Caleb,  my  old  friend,  is  there  any 
chance  of  supper  ?”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood. 

8 VOL.  i. 


86 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Chance  of  supper,  your  lordship  9”  said  Caleb,  with 
an  emphasis  of  strong  scorn  at  the  implied  doubt, — 
“ how  should  there  be  ony  question  o’  that,  and  we  in 
your  lordship’s  house  ? — Chance  of  supper,  indeed  ! — 
But  ye’ll  no  be  for  butcher-meat  9 There’s  walth  o’  fat 
poultry,  ready  either  for  spit  or  brander — The  fat  capon, 
Mysie,”  he  added,  calling  out  as  boldly  as  if  such  a thing 
had  been  in  existence. 

“ Quite  unnecessary,”  said  Bucklaw,  who  deemed 
himself  bound  in  courtesy  to  relieve  some  part  of  the 
anxious  butler’s  perplexity,  “ if  you  have  anything  cold, 
or  a morsel  of  bread.” 

“ The  best  of  bannocks  !”  exclaimed  Caleb,  much 
relieved  ; “ and,  for  cauld  meat,  a’  that  we  hae  is  cauld 
aneugh, — howbeit  maist  of  the  cauld  meat  and  pastry 
was  gi’en  to  the  poor  folk  after  the  ceremony  of  inter- 
ment, as  gude  reason  was  ; nevertheless”— 

“ Come,  Caleb,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ I 
must  cut  this  matter  short.  This  is  the  young  Laird  of 
Bucklaw  ; he  is  under  hiding,  and  therefore  you  know” — 

“ He’ll  be  nae  nicer  than  your  lordship’s  honour,  I’se 
warrant,”  answered  Caleb,  cheerfully,  with  a nod  of  in- 
telligence ; “ I am  sorry  that  the  gentleman  is  under  dis- 
tress, but  J am  blithe  that  he  canna  say  muckle  again  our 
housekeeping,  for  I believe  his  ain  pinches  may  match 
ours  ; — no  that  we  are  pinched,  thank  God,”  he  added,  re- 
tracting the  admission  which  he  had  made  in  his  first  burst 
of  joy,  “ but  nae  doubt  we  are  warn*  afF  than  we  hae  been, 
or  suld  be.  And  for  eating, — what  signifies  telling  a lie  9 
there’s  just  the  hinder  end  of  the  mutton-ham  that  has 
been  but  three  times  on  the  table,  and  the  nearer  the 
bane  the  sweeter,  as  your  honours  weel  ken  ; and — there’s 
the  heel  of  the  ewe-tnilk  kebbuck,  wi’  a bit  of  nice  but- 
ter, and — and — that’s  a’  that’s  to  trust  to.”  And  with 
great  alacrity  he  produced  his  slender  stock  of  provisions 
and  placed  them  with  much  formality  upon  a Small  round 
table  betwixt  the  two  gentlemen,  who  were  not  deterred 
either  by  the  homely  quality  Or  limited  quantity  of  the 
repast  from  doing  it  full  justice.  Caleb,  in  the  mean- 


THE  Bill  HE  OF  IAMMBRMOOR. 


87 


while  waited  on  them  with  grave  officiousness,  as  if  anx- 
ious to  make  up,  by  his  own  respectful  assiduity,  for  the 
want  of  all  other  attendance. 

But  alas  ! how  little  on  such  occasions  can  form,  how- 
ever anxiously  and  scrupulously  observed,  supply  the  lack 
of  substantial  fare  ! Bucldaw,  who  had  eagerly  eat  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  thrice  sacked  mutton-ham, 
now  began  to  demand  ale. 

“ 1 wadna  just  presume  to  recommend  our  ale,”  said 
Caleb  ; “ the  maut  was  ill  made,  and  there  was  awfu’ 
thunner  last  week  ; but  siccan  water  as  the  tower  well 
has,  ye’ll  seldom  see,  Bucklaw,  and  that  I’se  engage  for.” 

“ But  if  your  ale  is  bad  you  can  let  us  have  some 
wine,”  said  Bucklaw,  making  a grimace  at  the  mention 
of  the  pure  element  which  Caleb  so  earnestly  recom- 
mended. 

“ Wine  V9  answered  Caleb  undauntedly,  “ eneugh  of 
wine  ; it  was  but  twa  days  syne — waes  me  for  the  cause 
— there  was  as  much  wine  drunk  in  this  house  as  would 
have  floated  a pinnace.  There  never  was  lack  of  wine 
at  Wolfs  rr~  ” 

“ Do  fetch  us  some  then,”  said  his  master,  “ instead 
of  talking  about  it.”  And  Caleb  boldly  departed. 

Every  expended  butt  in  the  old  cellar  did  he  set  atilt 
and  shake  with  the  desperate  expectation  of  collecting 
enough  of  tlie  grounds  of  claret  to  fill  the  large  pewter 
measure  which  he  carried  in  his  hand.  Alas  ! each  had 
been  too  devoutly  drained  ; and,  with  all  the  squeezing 
and  manoeuvring  which  his  craft  as  a butler  suggested,  he 
could  only  collect  about  half  a quart  that  seemed  present- 
able. Still,  however,  Caleb  was  too  good  a general  to 
renounce  the  field  without  a stratagem  to  cover  his  re- 
treat. He  undauntedly  threw  down  an  empty  flagon,  as 
if  he  had  stumbled  at  the  entrance  of  the  apartment  ; 
called  upon  Mysie  to  wipe  up  the  wine  that  had  never 
been  spilt,  and  placing  the  other  vessel  on  the  table,  hoped 
there  was  still  enough  left  for  their  honours.  There  was 
indeed  ; for  even  Bucklaw,  a sworn  friend  to  the  grape, 
found  no  encouragement  to  renew  his  first  attack  upon 


88 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


the  vintage  of  Wolfs  Crag,  but  contented  himself,  how- 
ever reluctantly,  with  a draught  of  fair  water.  Arrange- 
ments were  now  made  for  his  repose  ; and  as  the  secret 
chamber  was  assigned  for  this  purpose,  it  furnished  Caleb 
with  a first-rate  and  most  plausible  apology  for  all  defi- 
ciencies of  furniture,  bedding,  fee. 

“ For  wha,”  said  he,  “ would  have  thought  of  the 
secret  chaumer  being  needed  9 it  has  not  been  used  since 
the  time  of  the  Gowrie  Conspiracy,  and  I durst  never  let 
a woman  ken  of  the  entrance  to  it,  or  your  honour  will 
allow  that  it  wad  not  hae  been  a secret  chaumer  lang.” 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  hearth  in  hall  was  black  and  dead, 

No  board  was  dight  in  bower  within, 

Nor  merry  bowl  nor  welcome  bed  ; 

4t  Here’s  sorry  cheer,”  quoth  the  Heir  of  Linne. 

Old  Ballad . 

The  feelings  of  the  prodigal  Heir  of  Linne,  as  ex- 
pressed in  that  excellent  old  song,  when,  after  dissipating 
his  whole  fortune,  he  found  himself  the  deserted  inhabi- 
tant of  “ the  lonely  lodge,”  might  perhaps  have  some 
resemblance  to  those  of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  in 
his  deserted' mansion  of  Wolfs  Crag.  The  Master,  how- 
ever, had  this  advantage  over  the  spendthrift  in  the  le- 
gend, that  if  he  was  in  similar  distress,  he  could  not  im- 
pute it  to  his  own  imprudence.  His  misery  had  been 
bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father,  and,  joined  to  his  high 
blood,  and  to  a title  which  the  courteous  might  give,  or 
the  churlish  withhold  at  their  pleasure,  it  was  the  whole 
inheritance  he  had  derived  from  his  ancestry. 

Perhaps  this  melancholy,  yet  consolatory  reflection, 
crossed  the  mind,  of  this  unfortunate  young  nobleman 
with  a breathing  of  comfort.  Favourable  to  calm  reflec- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


89 


tion,  as  well  as  to  the  Muses,  the  morning,  while  it  dis- 
pelled the  shades  of  night,  had  a composing  and  sedative 
effect  upon  the  stormy  passions  by  which  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  had  been  agitated  on  the  preceding  day. 
He  now  felt  himself  able  to  analyze  the  different  feelings 
by  which  he  was  agitated,  and  much  resolved  to  combat 
and  to  subdue  them.  The  morning,  which  had  arisen 
calm  and  bright,  gave  a pleasant  effect  even  to  the  waste 
moorland  view  wThich  was  seen  from  the  castle  on  looking 
to  the  landward  ; and  the  glorious  ocean,  crisped  with  a 
thousand  rippling  waves  of  silver,  extended  on  the  other 
side  in  awful  yet  complacent  majesty  to  the  verge  of  the 
horizon.  With  such  scenes  of  calm  sublimity  the  human 
heart  sympathizes  even  in  its  most  disturbed  moods,  and 
deeds  of  honour  and  virtue  are  inspired  by  their  majestic 
influence. 

To  seek  out  Rucklaw  in  the  retreat  which  he  had  af- 
forded him  was  the  first  occupation  of  the  Master,  after 
lie  had  performed,  with  a scrutiny  unusually  severe,  the 
important  task  of  self-examination.  “ How  nowT,  Buck- 
law?”  was  his  morning  salutation — “ how  like  you  the 
couch  in  which  the  exiled  Earl  of  Angus  once  slept  in 
security,  when  he  was  pursued  by  the  full  energy  of  a 
king’s  resentment  ?” 

“ Umph  !”  returned  the  sleeper  awakened ; “ I have 
little  to  complain  of  where  so  great  a man  was  quartered 
before  me,  only  the  mattress  was  of  the  hardest,  the  vault 
somewhat  damp,  the  rats  rather  more  mutinous  than  I 
would  have  expected  from  the  state  of  Caleb’s  larder  ; 
and  if  there  were  shutters  to  that  grated  window,  or  a 
curtain  to  the  bed,  I should  think  it,  upon  the  whole,  an 
improvement  in  your  accommodations.” 

“ It  is,  to  be  sure,  forlorn  enough,”  said  the  Master, 
looking  around  the  small  vault  ; “ but  if  you  will  rise 
and  leave  it,  Caleb  will  endeavour  to  find  you  a better 
breakfast  than  your  supper  of  last  night.” 

“ Pray,  let  it  be  no  better,”  said  Bucklaw,  getting  up 
and  endeavouring  to  dress  himself  as  well  as  the  obscuri- 

8*  VOL.  i. 


90 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ty  of  the  place  would  permit, — “ let  it,  I say,  be  no  bet- 
ter, if  you  mean  me  to  persevere  in  my  proposed  refor- 
mation. The  very  recollection  of  Caleb’s  beverage  has 
done  more  to  suppress  my  longing  to  open  the  day  with  a 
morning-draught  than  twenty  sermons  would  have  done. 
And  you,  Master  9 — have  you  been  able  to  give  battle 
valiantly  to  your  bosom-snake  ? You  see  I am  in  the  way 
of  smothering  my  vipers  one  by  one.” 

“ I have  commenced  the  battle,  at  least,  Bucklaw,  and 
1 have  had  a fair  vision  of  an  angel  who  descended  to  my 
assistance,”  replied  the  Master. 

“‘Woes  me  !”  said  his  guest,  “ no  vision  can  I expect, 
unless  my  aunt,  Lady  Girnington,  should  betake  herself 
to  the  tomb  ; and  then  it  would  be  the  substance  of  her 
heritage  rather  than  the  appearance  of  her  phantom  that 
I should  consider  as  the  support  of  my  good  resolutions. 
But  this  same  breakfast,  Master, — does  the  deer  that  is 
to  make  the  pasty  run  yet  on  foot,  as  the  ballad  has  it  9” 
“ I will  inquire  into  that  matter,”  said  his  entertainer  ; 
and,  leaving  the  apartment,  he  went  in  search  of  Caleb, 
whom,  after  some  difficulty,  he  found  in  an  obscure  sort 
of  dungeon,  which  had  been  in  former  times  the  buttery 
of  the  castle.  Here  the  old  man  was  employed  busily 
in  the  doubtful  task  of  burnishing  a pewter  flagon  until  it 
should  take  the  hue  and  semblance  of  silver-plate.  “ I 
think  it  may  do — I think  it  might  pass,  if  they  winna  bring 
it  ower  muckle  in  the  light  o’  the  window  were  the 
ejaculations  which  he  muttered  from  time  to  time  as  if  to 
encourage  himself  in  his  undertaking,  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  voice  of  his  master.  “ Take  this,”  said 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ and  get  what  is  necessary 
for  the  family.”  And  with  these  words  he  gave  to  the 
old  butler  the  purse  which  had  on  the  preceding  evening 
so  narrowly  escaped  the  fangs  of  Craigengelt.  The  old 
man  shook  his  silvery  and  thin  locks,  and  looked  with  an 
expression  of  the  most  heartfelt  anguish  at  his  master  as 
he  weighed  in  his  hand  the  slender  treasure,  and  said  in 
a sorrowful  voice,  “ And  is  this  a’  that’s  left  9” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


9f 


“ All  that  is  left  at  present,”  said  the  Master,  affecting 
more  cheerfulness  than  perhaps  he  really  felt,  “ is  just 
the  green  purse  and  the  wee  pickle  gowd,  as  the  old  song 
says  ; but  we  shall  do  better  one  day,  Caleb.” 

“ Before  that  day  comes,”  said  Caleb,  “ I doubt  there 
will  be  an  end  of  an  auld  sang,  and  an  auld  serving-man 
to  boot.  But  it  disna  become  me  to  speak  th^t  gate  to 
your  honour,  and  you  looking  sae  pale.  Tak  back  the 
purse,  and  keep  it  to  be  making  a show  before  company  ; 
for  if  your  honour  would  just  tak  a bidding,  and  be  whiles 
taking  it  out  afore  folk  and  putting  it  up  again,  there’s 
naebody  would  refuse  us  trust,  for  a’  that’s  come  and  gane 
yet.” 

“ But,  Caleb,”  said  the  Master,  “ I still  intend  to 
leave  this  country  very  soon,  and  desire  to  do  so,  with  the 
reputation  of  an  honest  man,  leaving  no  debt  behind  me, 
at  least  of  my  own  contracting.” 

“ And  gude  right  ye  suld  gang  away  as  a true  man, 
and  so  ye  shall  ; for  auld  Caleb  can  tak  the  wyte  of 
whatever  is  ta’en  on  for  the  house,  and  then  it  will  be  a’ 
justae  man’s  burden  ; and  I will  live  just  as  weel  in  the 
tolbooth  as  out  of  it,  and  the  credit  of  the  family  will  be 
a’  safe  and  sound.” 

The  Master  endeavoured,  in  vain,  to  make  Caleb  com- 
prehend, that  the  butler’s  incurring  the  responsibility  of 
debts  in  his  own  person,  would  rather  add  to  than  remove 
the  objections  which  he  had  to  their  being  contracted. 
He  spoke  to  a premier,  too  busy  in  devising  ways  and 
means  to  puzzle  himself  with  refuting  the  arguments 
offered  against  their  justice  or  expediency. 

“ There’s  Eppie  Sma’trash  will  trust  us  for  ale,”  said 
Caleb  to  himself ; “ she  has  lived  a’  her  life  under  the 
family — and  may  be  wi’  a soup  brandy — I canna  say  for 
wine — she  is  but  a lone  woman,  and  gets  her  claret  by  a 
rundlet  at  a time — but  I’ll  work  a wee  drap  out  o’  her  by 
fair  means  or  foul.  For  doos,  there’s  the  doo-cot — there 
will  be  poultry  amang  the  tenants,  though  Luckie  Chirn- 
side  says  she  has  paid  the  kain  twice  ower — We’ll  mak 
shift,  an  it  like  your  honour — we’ll  mak  shift — keep  your 


92 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


heart  abune,  for  the  house  sail  haud  its  credit  as  lang  as 
auld  Caleb  is  to  the  fore.” 

The  entertainment  which  Caleb’s  exertions  of  various 
kinds  enabled  him  to  present  to  the  young  gentlemen  for 
three  or  four  days  was  certainly  of  no  splendid  descrip- 
tion, but  it  may  readily  be  believed  it  was  set  before  no 
critical  guests  ; and  even  the  distresses,  excuses,  eva- 
sions, and  shifts  of  Caleb,  afforded  amusement  to  the 
young  men,  and  added  a sort  of  interest  to  the  scrambling 
and  irregular  style  of  their  table.  They  had  indeed 
occasion  to  seize  on  every  circumstance  that  might  serve 
to  diversify  or  enliven  time,  which  otherwise  passed  away 
so  heavily. 

Bucklaw,  shut  out  from  his  usual  field-sports  and  joy- 
ous carouses  by  the  necessity  of  remaining  concealed 
within  the  walls  of  the  castle,  became  a joyless  and  un- 
interesting companion.  When  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  would  no  longer  fence  or  play  at  shovel-board — 
when  he  himself  had  polished  to  the  extremity  the  coat 
of  his  palfrey  with  brush,  curry-comb,  and  hair-cloth — 
when  he  had  seen  him  eat  his  provender,  and  gently  lie 
down  in  his  stall,  he  could  hardly  help  envying  the  ani- 
mal’s apparent  acquiescence  in  a life  so  monotonous. 
“ The  stupid  brute,”  he  said,  “ thinks  neither  of  the 
race-ground  nor  the  hunting-field,  nor  his  green  paddock  at 
Bucklaw,  but  enjoys  himself  as  comfortably  when  halter- 
ed to  the  rack  in  this  ruinous  vault,  as  if  he  had  been 
foaled  in  it  ; and  I,  who  have  the  freedom  of  a prisoner 
at  large,  to  range  through  the  dungeons  of  this  wretched 
old  tower,  can  hardly,  betwixt  whistling  and  sleeping, 
contrive  to  pass  away  the  hour  till  dinner-time.” 

And  with  this  disconsolate  reflection  he  wended  his 
way  to  the  bartizan  or  battlements  of  the  tower,  to  watch 
what  objects  might  appear  on  the  distant  moor,  or  to  pelt, 
with  pebbles  and  pieces  of  lime,  the  sea-mews  and  cor- 
morants which  established  themselves  incautiously  within 
the  reach  of  an  idle  young  man. 

Ravenswood,  with  a mind  incalculably  deeper  and 
more  powerful  than  that  of  his  companion,  had  his  own 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


93 


anxious  subjects  of  reflection,  which  wrought  for  him  the 
same  unhappiness  that  sheer  ennui  and  want  of  occupa- 
tion inflicted  on  his  companion.  The  first  sight  of  Lucy 
Ashton  had  been  less  impressive  than  her  image  proved 
to  be  upon  reflection.  As  the  depth  and  violence  of  that 
revengeful  passion,  by  which  he  had  been  actuated  in 
seeking  an  interview  with  the  father,  began  to  abate  by 
degrees,  he  looked  back  on  his  conduct  towards  the 
daughter  as  harsh  and  unworthy  towards  a female  of  rank 
and  beauty.  Her  looks  of  grateful  acknowledgment,  her 
words  of  affectionate  courtesy,  had  been  repelled  with 
something  which  approached  to  disdain  ; and  if  the  Mas- 
ter of  Ravenswood  had  sustained  wrongs  at  the  hand  of 
Sir  William  Ashton,  his  conscience  told  him  they  had  been 
unhandsomely  resented  towards  his  daughter.  WThen  his 
thoughts  took  this  turn  of  self-reproach,  the  recollection 
of  Lucy  Ashton’s  beautiful  features,  rendered  yet  more 
interesting  by  the  circumstances  in  which  their  meeting 
had  taken  place,  made  an  impression  upon  his  mind  at 
once  soothing  and  painful.  The  sweetness  of  her  voice, 
the  delicacy  of  her  expressions,  the  vivid  glow  of  her 
filial  affection,  embittered  his  regret  at  having  repulsed  her 
gratitude  with  rudeness,  while,  at  the  same  time,  they 
placed  before  his  imagination  a picture  of  the  most  se- 
ducing sweetness. 

Even-  young  Ravenswood’s  strength  of  moral  feeling 
and  rectitude  of  purpose  at  once  increased  the  danger  of 
cherishing  these  recollections,  and  the  propensity  to  en- 
tertain them.  Firmly  resolved  as  he  was  to  subdue,  if 
possible,  the  predominating  vice  in  his  character,  he  ad- 
mitted with  willingness — nay,  he  summoned  up  in  his 
imagination,  the  ideas  by  which  it  could  be  most  power- 
fully counteracted  ; and,  while  he  did  so,  a sense  of  his 
own  harsh  conduct  towards  her,  naturally  induced  him,  as 
if  by  way  of  recompense,  to  invest  her  with  more  of 
grace  and  beauty  than  perhaps  she  could  actually  claim. 

Had  any  one  at  this  period  told  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood that  he  had  so  lately  vowed  vengeance  against  the 
whole  lineage  of  him  whom  he  considered,  not  unjustly, 


94 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


as  author  of  his  father’s  ruin  and  death,  he  might  at  first 
have  repelled  the  charge  as  a foul  calumny  ; yet  upon 
serious  self-examination,  he  would  have  been  compelled 
to  admit,  that  it  had,  at  one  period,  some  foundation  in 
truth,  though,  according  to  the  present  tone  of  his  senti- 
ments, it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  this  had  really  been 
the  case. 

There  already  existed  in  his  bosom  two  contradic- 
tory passions, — a desire  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  father, 
strangely  qualified  by  admiration  of  his  enemy’s  daughter. 
Against  the  former  feeling  he  had  struggled,  until  it  seem- 
ed to  him  upon  the  wane  ; against  the  latter  he  used  no 
means  of  resistance,  for  he  did  not  suspect  its  existence. 
That  this  was  actually  the  case,  was  chiefly  evinced  by 
his  resuming  his  resolution  to  leave  Scotland.  Yet, 
though  such  was  his  purpose,  be  remained  day  after  day 
at  Wolfs  Crag,  without  taking  measures  for  carrying  it 
into  execution.  It  is  true,  that  he  had  written  to  one  or 
two  kinsmen,  who  resided  in  a distant  quarter  of  Scot- 
land, and  particularly  to  the  Marquis  of  A intimat- 

ing his  purpose ; and  when  pressed  upon  the  subject  by 

ijuuKiaw,  ne  was  wont  to  allege  the  necessity  of  waiting 
for  their  reply,  especially  that  of  the  Marquis,  before 
taking  so  decisive  a measure. 

The  Marquis  was  rich  and  powerful ; and  although  he 
was  suspected  to  entertain  sentiments  unfavourable  to  the 
government  established  at  the  Revolution,  he  had  never- 
theless address  enough  to  head  a party  in  the  Scottish 
Privy -council,  connected  with  the  high  church  faction  in 
England,  and  of  sufficient  power  to  menace  those  to  whom 
the  Lord  Keeper  adhered,  with  a probable  subversion  of 
their  power.  The  consulting  with  a personage  of  such 
importance  was  a plausible  excuse,  which  Ravenswood 
used  to  Bucklaw’,  and  probably  to  himself,  for  continuing 
his  residence  at  Wolf’s  Crag  ; and  it  was  rendered  yet 
more  so  by  a general  report  which  began  to  be  current, 
of  a probable  change  of  ministers  and  measures  in  the 
Scottish  administration.  These  rumours,  strongly  assert- 
ed by  some,  and  as  resolutely  denied  by  others,  as  their 


the  bride  or  iammermook. 


95 


wishes  or  interest  dictated,  found  their  way  even  to  the 
ruinous  tower  of  Wolfs  Crag,  chiefly  through  the  medium 
of  Caleb  the  butler,  who,  among  his  other  excellences, 
was  an  ardent  politician,  and  seldom  made  an  excursion 
from  the  old  fortress  to  the  neighbouring  village  of  Wolfs- 
hope,  without  bringing  back  what  tidings  were  current  in 
the  vicinity. 

But  if  Bucklaw  could  not  offer  any  satisfactory  objec- 
tions to  the  delay  of  the  Master  in  leaving  Scotland,  he 
did  not  the  less  suffer  with  impatience  the  state  of  inac- 
tion to  which  it  confined  him,  and  it  was  only  the  ascen- 
dancy which  his  new  companion  had  acquired  over  him, 
that  induced  him  to  submit  to  a course  of  life  so  alien  to 
his  habits  and  inclinations. 

“ You  were  wont  to  be  thought  a stirring  active  young 
fellow,  Master,”  was  his  frequent  remonstrance  ; “ yet 
here  you  seem  determined  to  live  on  and  on  like  a rat  in 
a hole,  with  this  trifling  difference,  that  the  wiser  vermin 
chooses  a hermitage  where  he  can  find  food  at  least ; but 
as  for  us,  Caleb’s  excuses  become  longer  as  his  diet  turns 
more  spare,  and  I fear  we  shall  realize  the  stories  they  tell 
of  the  sloth, — we  have  almost  eat  up  the  last  green  leaf 
on  the  plant,  and  have  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  drop  from 
the  tree  and  break  our  necks.5’ 

“ Do  not  fear  it,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ there  is  a fate 
watches  for  us,  and  we  too  have  a stake  in  the  revolu- 
tion, that  is  now  impending,  and  which  already  has  alarm- 
ed many  a bosom.” 

“ What  fate — what  revolution  ?”  answered  his  com- 
panion. “ We  have  had  one  revolution  too  much  already, 
I think.” 

Ravenswood  interrupted  him  by  putting  into  his  hands 
a letter. 

“ O,”  answered  Bucklaw,  “ my  dream’s  out — I 
thought  I heard  Caleb  this  morning  pressing  some  unfor- 
tunate fellow  to  a drink  of  cold  water,  and  assuring  him  it 
was  better  for  his  stomach  in  the  morning  than  ale  of 
brandy.” 


96 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ It  was  my  Lord  of  A ’s  courier,”  said  Ravens- 

wood,  “ who  was  doomed  to  experience  his  ostentatious 
hospitality,  which  I believe  ended  in  sour  beer  and  her- 
rings— Read,  and  you  will  see  the  news  he  has  brought 
us.” 

“ I will  as  fast  as  I can,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ but  I am 
no  great  clerk,  nor  does  his  lordship  seem  to  be  the  first 
of  scribes.” 

The  reader  will  peruse,  in  a few  seconds,  by  the  aid 
of  our  friend  Ballantyne’s  types,  what  took  Bucklaw  a 
good  half  hour  in  perusal,  though  assisted  by  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood.  The  tenor  was  as  follows  : — 

“ Right  Honourable  our  Cousin , 

“ Our  hearty  commendations  premised,  these  come  to 
assure  you  of  the  interest  which  we  take  in  your  welfare, 
and  in  your  purposes  towards  its  augmentation.  If  we  have 
been  less  active  in  showing  forth  our  effective  good  will 
towards  you,  than,  as  a loving  kinsman  and  blood-relative, 
we  would  willingly  have  desired,  we  request  that  you  will 
impute  it  to  lack  of  opportunity  to  show  our  good  liking, 
not  to  any  coldness  of  our  will.  Touching  your  resolu- 
tion to  travel  in  foreign  parts,  as  at  this  time  we  hold  the 
same  little  advisable,  in  respect  that  your  ill-willers  may, 
according  to  the  custom  of  such  persons,  impute  motives 
for  your  journey,  whereof,  although  we  know  and  believe 
you  to  be  as  clear  as  ourselves,  yet  natheless  their  words 
may  find  credence  in  places  where  the  belief  in  them 
may  much  prejudice  you,  and  which  we  should  see  with 
more  unwillingness  and  displeasure  than  with  means  of 
remedy. 

“ Having  thus,  as  becometh  our  kindred,  given  you 
our  poor  mind  on  the  subject  of  your  journeying  forth  of 
Scotland,  we  would  willing  add  reasons  of  weight,  which 
might  materially  advantage  you  and  your  father’s  house, 
thereby  to  determine  you  to  abide  at  Wolfs  Crag,  until 
this  harvest  season  shall  be  passed  over.  But  what  say- 
eth  the  proverb,  verbum  sapienti , — a word  is  more  to  him 
that  hath  wisdom  than  a sermon  to  a fool.  And  albeit 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMEBMOOR, 


97 


we  have  written  this  poor  scroll  with  our  own  hand,  and 
are  well  assured  of  the  fidelity  of  our  messenger,  as  him 
that  is  many  ways  bounden  to  us,  yet  so  it  is,  that  slid- 
dery  ways  crave  wary  walking,  and  that  we  may  not  peril 
upon  paper  matters  which  we  would  gladly  impart  to  you 
by  word  of  mouth.  Wherefore,  it  was  our  purpose  to 
have  prayed  you  heartily  to  come  to  this  our  barren  High- 
land country  to  kill  a stag,  and  to  treat  of  the  matters 
which  we  are  now  more  painfully  inditing  to  you  anerit. 
But  commodity  does  not  serve  at  present  for  such  our 
meeting,  which,  therefore,  shall  be  deferred  until  sic 
time  as  we  may  in  all  mirth  rehearse  those  things  whereof 
we  now  keep  silence.  Meantime,  we  pray  you  to  think 
that  we  are,  and  will  still  be,  your  good  kinsman  and  well 
wisher,  waiting  but  for  times  of  whilk  we  do,  as  it  were, 
entertain  a twilight  prospect,  to  appear  also  your  effect- 
ual well-doer.  And  in  which  hope  we  heartily  wrrite 
ourself, 

Right  honourable, 

Your  loving  cousin,  A .” 

Given  from  our  poor 
house  of  B , &c. 

Superscribed — “ For  the  right  honourable,  and  our 
honoured  kinsman,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — These, 
with  haste,  haste,  post-haste — ride  and  run  until  these  be 
delivered.” 

“ What  think  you  of  this  epistle,  Bucklaw  9”  said  the 
Master,  when  his  companion  had  hammered  out  all  the 
sense,  and  almost  all  the  words  of  which  it  consisted.” 

“ Truly,  that  the  Marquis’s  meaning  is  as  great  a riddle 
as  his  manuscript.  He  is  really  in  much  need  of  Wit’s 
Interpreter,  or  the  Complete  Letter-Writer,  and  were  I 
you,  I would  send  him  a copy  by  the  bearer.  He  writes 
you  very  kindly  to  remain  wasting  your  time  and  your 
money  in  this  vile,  stupid,  oppressed  country,  without  so 
much  as  offering  you  the  countenance  and  shelter  of  his 
house.  In  my  opinion,  he  has  some  scheme  in  view  in 
9 VOL.  i. 


98 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


which  he  supposes  you  can  be  useful,  and  he  wishes  to 
keep  you  at  hand,  to  make  use  of  you  when  it  ripens, 
reserving  the  power  of  turning  you  adrift,  should  his  plot 
fail  in  the  concoction.” 

“ His  plot  — then  you  suppose  it  is  a treasonable 
business,”  answered  Ravenswood. 

“ What  else  can  it  be  replied  Bucklaw  ; “ the 
Marquis  has  been  long  suspected  to  have  an  eye  to  Saint 
Germains.” 

“ He  should  not  engage  me  rashly  in  such  an  adven- 
ture,” said  Ravenswood  ; 44  when  I recollect  the  times  of 
the  first  and  second  Charles,  and  of  the  last  James,  truly 
I see  little  reason,  that,  as  a man  or  a patriot,  I should 
draw  my  sword  for  their  descendants.” 

“ Humph  !”  replied  Bucklaw  ; 44  so  you  are  set  your- 
self down  to  mourn  over  the  crop-eared  dogs,  whom 
honest  Claverse  treated  as  they  deserved  !” 

44  They  first  gave  the  dogs  an  ill  name,  and  then  hang- 
ed them,”  replied  Ravenswood.  “I  hope  to  see  the 
day  when  justice  shall  be  open  to  Whig  and  Tory,  and 
when  these  nick-names  shall  only  be  used  among  coffee- 
house politicians,  as  slut  and  jade  are  among  apple-wom- 
en, as  cant  terms  of  idle  spite  and  rancour.” 

44  That  will  not  be  in  our  days,  Master — the  iron  has 
entered  too  deeply  into  our  sides  and  our  souls.” 

44  It  will  be,  however,  one  day,”  replied  the  Master  j 
44  men  will  not  always  start  at  these  nick-names  as  at  a 
trumpet-sound.  As  social  life  is  better  protected,  its 
comforts  will  become  too  dear  to  be  hazarded  without 
some  better  reason  than  speculative  politics.” 

64  It  is  fine  talking,”  answered  Bucklaw  ; “ but  my 
heart  is  with  the  old  song, — 

u To  see  good  corn  upon  the  rigs, 

And  a gallows  built  to  hang  the  Whigs, 

And  the  right  restored  where  the  right  should  be, 

O that  is  the  thing  that  would  wanton  me.” 

“ You  may  sing  as  loudly  as  you  will,  cantabit  vacuus 
— answered  the  Master  ; 44  but  I believe  the  Marquis  is 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMEUMOOR. 


99 


too  wise,  at  least  too  wary,  to  join  you  in  such  a burthen. 
{ suspect  he  alludes  to  a revolution  in  the  Scottish  Privy- 
council,  rather  than  in  the  British  kingdoms.” 

“ O,  confusion  to  your  state-tricks,”  exclaimed  Buck- 
law,  “ your  cold  calculating  manoeuvres,  which  old  gen- 
tlemen in  wrought  night-caps  and  furred  gowns  execute 
like  so  many  games  at  chess,  and  displace  a treasurer  or 
lord  commissioner  as  they  would  take  a rook  or  a pawn. 
Tennis  for  my  sport,  and  battle  for  my  earnest.  My 
racket  and  my  sword  for  my  plaything  and  bread-winner. 
And  you,  Master,  so  deep  and  considerate  as  you  would 
seem,  you  have  that  within  you  makes  the  blood  boil  faster 
than  suits  your  present  humour  of  moralizing  on  political 
truths.  You  are  one  of  those  wise  men  who  see  every 
thing  with  great  composure  till  their  blood  is  up,  and  then 
— woe  to  any  one  who  should  put  them  in  mind  of  their 
own  prudential  maxims.” 

“ Perhaps,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ you  read  me  more 
rightly  than  I can  myself.  But  to  think  justly  will  cer- 
tainly go  some  length  in  helping  me  to  act  so.  But 
hark  1 ] hear  Caleb  tolling  the  dinner-bell.” 

66  Which  he  always  does  with  the  more  sonorous  grace, 
in  proportion  to  the  meagreness  of  the  cheer  which  he 
has  provided,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ as  if  that  infernal  clang 
and  jangle,  which  will  one  day  bring  the  belfry  down  the 
cliff,  could  convert  a starved  hen  into  a fat  capon,  and  a 
blade-bone  of  mutton  into  a haunch  of  venison.” 

“ I wish  we  may  be  so  well  off  as  your  worst  conjec- 
tures surmise,  Bucklaw,  from  the  extreme  solemnity  and 
ceremony  with  which  Caleb  seems  to  place  on  the  table 
that  solitary  covered  dish.” 

“ Uncover,  Caleb  f uncover,  for  Heaven’s  sake  !”  said 
Bucklaw  ; “ let  us  have  what  you  can  give  us  without 
preface — why  it  stands  well  enough,  man,”  he  continued, 
addressing  impatiently  the  ancient  butler,  who,  without 
reply,  kept  shifting  the  dish,  until  he  had  at  length  placed 
it  with  mathematical  precision  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
table. 


100 


TALES  OF  MYr  LANDLORD. 


“ What  have  we  got  here,  Caleb  9”  inquired  the  Mas- 
ter in  his  turn. 

“ Ahem  ! sir,  ye  suld  have  known  before  ; but  his 
honour  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw  is  so  impatient,”  answered 
Caleb,  still  holding  the  dish  with  one  hand,  and  the  cover 
with  the  other,  with  evident  reluctance  to  disclose  the 
contents. 

“ But  what  is  it,  a God’s  name — not  a pair  of  clean 
spurs,  I hope,  in  the  Border  fashion  of  old  times  9” 

“ Ahem  ! ahem  !”  reiterated  Caleb,  “ your  honour  is 
pleased  to  be  facetious — natheless  I might  presume  to  say 
it  was  a convenient  fashion,  and  used,  as  I have  heard,  in 
an  honourable  and  thriving  family.  But  touching  your 
present  dinner,  I judged  that  this  being  Saint  Magdalen’s 
Eve,  who  was  a worthy  Queen  of  Scotland  in  her  day, 
your  honours  might  judge  it  decorous,  if  not  altogether 
to  fast,  yet  only  to  sustain  nature  with  some  slight  refec- 
tion, as  ane  saulted  herring  or  the  like.”  And,  uncover- 
ing the  dish,  he  displayed  four  of  the  savoury  fishes 
which  he  mentioned,  adding,  in  a subdued  tone,  “ that 
they  were  no  just  common  herring  neither,  being  every 
ane  melters,  and  sauted  with  uncommon  care  by  the 
housekeeper  (poor  Mysie)  for  his  honour’s  especial  use.” 
“ Out  upon  all  apologies,”  said  the  Master,  “ let  us 
eat  the  herrings  since  there  is  nothing  better  to  be  had — 
but  I begin  to  think  with  you,  Bucklaw,  that  we  are  con- 
suming the  last  green  leaf,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  Mar- 
quis’s political  machinations,  we  must  positively  shift 
camp  for  wTant  of  forage,  without  waiting  the  issue  of 
them.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  1AMMERM00R* 


101 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Aye,  and  when  huntsmen  wind  the  merry  horn, 

And  from  its  covert  starts  the  fearful  prey, 

Who,  warm'd  with  youth’s  blood  in  his  swelling1  veins, 

Would,  like  a lifeless  clod  outstretched  lie, 

Shut  out  from  all  the  fair  creation  offers  1 

Ethwald,  Act  I.  Scene  /. 

Light  meals  procure  light  slumbers  ; and  therefore  it 
is  not  surprising,  that,  considering  the  fare  which  Caleb’s 
conscience,  or  his  necessity,  assuming,  as  will  sometimes 
happen,  that  disguise,  had  assigned  to  the  guests  of 
Wolfs  Crag,  their  slumbers  should  have  been  short. 

In  the  morning  Bucklaw  rushed  into  his  host’s  apart- 
ment with  a loud  halloo,  which  might  have  aw^aked  the 
dead. 

“ Up  ! up  ! in  the  name  of  Heaven — the  hunters  are 
out,  the  only  piece  of  sport  I have  seen  this  month  ; and 
you  lie  here,  Master,  on  a bed  that  has  little  to  recom- 
mend it,  except  that  it  may  be  something  softer  than  the 
stone  floor  of  your  ancestors’  vault.” 

“ I wish,”  said  Ravenswood,  raising  his  head  peevishly, 
“ you  had  forborne  so  early  a jest,  Mr.  Hayston — it  is 
really  no  pleasure  to  lose  the  very  short  repose  which  I 
had  just  begun  to  enjoy,  after  a night  spent  in  thoughts 
upon  fortune  far  harder  than  my  couch,  Bucklaw.” 

“ Pshaw  ! pshaw  !”  replied  his  guest ; “ get  up — get 
up — the  hounds  are  abroad — I have  saddled  the  horses 
myself,  for  old  Caleb  was  calling  for  grooms  and  lacqueys, 
and  would  never  have  proceeded  without  two  hours’  apol- 
ogy, for  the  absence  of  men  that  were  a hundred  miles 
off — get  up,  Master — I say  the  hounds  are  out — get  up,  I 
say — the  hunt  is  up.”  And  off  ran  Bucklaw. 

9*  VOL.  i. 


102 


TAXES  OF  MY  XANDXORD. 


“ And  I say,”  said  the  Master,  rising  slowly,  “ that 
nothing  can  concern  me  less — Whose  hounds  come  so 
near  to  us  9” 

“ The  Honourable  Lord  Bittlebrains’,”  answered  Ca- 
leb, who  had  followed  the  impatient  Laird  of  Bucklaw 
into  his  master’s  bed-room,  “ and  truly  I ken  nae  title  they 
have  to  be  yowling  and  howling  within  the  freedoms  and 
immunities  of  your  lordship’s  right  of  free  forestry.” 

“ Nor  I,  Caleb,”  replied  Ravenswood,  “ excepting  that 
they  have  bought  both  the  lands  and  the  right  of  forestry, 
and  may  think  themselves  entitled  to  exercise  the  rights 
they  have  paid  their  money  for.” 

“ It  may  be  sae,  my  lord,”  replied  Caleb  ; “ but  it’s  no 
gentleman’s  deed  of  them  to  come  here  and  exercise  such 
like  right,  and  your  lordship  living  at  your  airt  castle  of 
Wolfs  Crag.  Lord  Bittlebrains  would  do  weel  to  re- 
member what  his  folks  have  been.” 

“ And  we  what  we  now  are,”  said  the  Master,  with  sup- 
pressed bitterness  of  feeling.  “ But  reach  me  my  cloak, 
Caleb,  and  I will  indulge  Bucklaw  with  a sight  of  this 
chase.  It  is  selfish  to  sacrifice  my  guest’s  pleasure  to  my 
own.” 

“ Sacrifice  9”  echoed  Caleb,  in  a tone,  which  seemed 
to  imply  the  total  absurdity  of  his  master  making  the  least 
concession  in  deference  to  any  one — “ Sacrifice  indeed  9 
—but  I crave  your  honour’s  pardon — and  whilk  doublet 
is  it  your  pleasure  to  wear  9” 

“ Any  one  you  will,  Caleb — my  wardrobe,  I suppose, 
is  not  very  extensive.” 

“ Not  extensive  9”  echoed  his  assistant ; “ when  there 
is  the  grey  and  silver  that  your  lordship  bestowed  on  Hew 
Hildebrand,  your  out-rider — and  the  French  velvet  that 
went  with  my  lord  your  father  (be  gracious  to  him) — my 
lord  your  father’s  auld  wardrobe  to  the  puir  friends  of  the 

family,  and  the  d rap-de-berry” 

“ Which  I gave  to  you,  Caleb,  and  which,  I suppose, 
is  the  only  dress  we  have  any  chance  to  come  at,  except 
that  I wore  yesterday — pray,  hand  me  that,  and  say  no 
more  about  it.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


103 


u If  your  honour  has  a fancy,”  replied  Caleb,  “ and 
doubtless  it’s  a sad-coloured  suit,  and  you  are  in  mourn- 
ing— nevertheless  I have  never  try’d  on  the  drap-de-berry 
— ill  wad  it  become  me — and  your  honour  having  no 
change  of  claiths  at  this  present — and  it’s  weel  brushed, 
and  as  there  are  leddies  down  yonder” — 

“ Ladies  9”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ and  what  ladies  9” 
“ What  do  I ken,  your  lordship  looking  down  at 
them  from  the  warden’s  tower,  I could  but  see  them  glent 
by  wi’  their  bridles  ringing,  and  their  feathers  fluttering, 
like  the  court  of  Elfland.” 

“ Well,  well,  Caleb,”  replied  the  Master,  “ help  me  on 
with  my  cloak,  and  hand  me  my  sword-belt. — What  clat- 
ter is  that  in  the  court-yard  9” 

“ Just  Bucklaw  bringing  out  the  horses,”  said  Caleb, 
after  a glance  through  the  window,  “ as  if  there  werena 
men  aneugh  in  the  castle,  or  as  if  I couldna  serve  the  turn 
of  ony  o’  them  that  are  out  o’  the  gate.” 

“ Alas  ! Caleb,  we  should  want  little,  if  your  ability 
were  equal  to  your  will,”  replied  his  master. 

“ And  I hope  your  lordship  disna  want  that  muckle,” 
said  Caleb  ; “ for,  considering  a’  things,  I trust  we  sup- 
port the  credit  of  the  family  as  weel  as  things  will  permit 
of, — only  Bucklaw  is  aye  sae  frank  and  sae  forward. — • 
And  there  he  has  brought  out  your  lordship’s  palfrey, 
without  the  saddle  being  decored  wi’  the  broidered  sump- 
ter-cloth  ! and  I could  have  brushed  it  in  a minute.” 

“ It  is  all  very  well,”  said  his  master,  escaping  from 
him,  and  descending  the  narrow  and  steep  winding  stair- 
case, which  led  to  the  court-yard. 

“ It  may  be  a’  very  weel,”  said  Caleb,  somewhat  peev- 
ishly ; “ but  if  your  lordship  wad  tarry  a bit,  I will  tell 
you  what  will  not  be  very  weel.” 

“ And  what  is  that  *?”  said  Ravensvrood  impatiently, 
but  stopping  at  the  same  time. 

“ Why,  just  that  ye  suld  speer  ony  gentleman  hame  to 
dinner  ; for  I canna  mak  anither  fast  on  a feast  day,  as 
when  I cam  ower  Bucklaw  wi’  queen  Margaret — and,  to 
speak  truth,  if  your  lordship  wad  but  please  to  cast  your- 


104 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


sell  in  the  way  of  dining  wi’  Lord  Bittlebrains,  I’se  war- 
rand  I wad  cast  about  brawly  for  the  morn  ; or  if,  stead 
o’  that,  ye  wad  but  dine  wi’  them  at  the  Change-house, 
ye  might  mak  your  shift  for  the  lawing  ; ye  might  say  ye 
had  forgot  your  purse — or  that  the  carline  awed  ye  rent, 
and  that  ye  wad  allow  it  in  the  settlement.” 

“ Or  any  other  lie  that  came  uppermost,  I suppose,” 
said  his  master.  “ Good  bye,  Caleb  ; I commend  your 
care  for  the  honour  of  the  family.”  And,  throwing  him- 
self on  his  horse,  he  followed  Bucklaw,  who,  at  the  man- 
ifest risk  of  his  neck,  had  begun  to  gallop  down  the  steep 
path  which  led  to  the  tower,  as  soon  as  he  saw  Ravens- 
wood  have  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

Caleb  Balderstone  looked  anxiously  after  them,  and 
shook  his  thin  grey  locks — “ And  I trust  they  will  come 
to  no  evil — but  they  have  reached  the  plain,  and  folks 
cannot  say  but  that  the  horse  are  hearty  and  in  spirits.” 

Animated  by  the  natural  impetuosity  and  fire  of  his 
temper,  young  Bucklaw  rushed  on  with  the  careless  speed 
of  a whirlwind.  Ravenswood  was  scarce  more  moder- 
ate in  his  pace,  for  his  was  a mind  unwillingly  roused  from 
contemplative  inactivity,  but  which,  when  once  put  into 
motion,  acquired  a spirit  of  forcible  and  violent  progres- 
sion. Neither  was  his  eagerness  proportioned  in  all  cases 
to  the  motive  of  impulse,  but  might  be  compared  to  the 
speed  of  a stone,  which  rushes  with  like  fury  down  the 
hill,  whether  it  was  first  put  in  motion  by  the  arm  of  a 
giant  or  the  hand  of  a boy.  He  felt,  therefore,  in  no  or- 
dinary degree,  the  headlong  impulse  of  the  chase,  a pas- 
time so  natural  to  youth  of  all  ranks,  that  it  seems  rather 
to  be  an  inherent  passion  in  our  animal  nature,  which  lev- 
els all  differences  of  rank  and  education,  than  an  acquir- 
ed habit  of  rapid  exercise. 

The  repeated  bursts  of  the  French  horn,  which  were 
then  always  used  for  the  encouragement  and  direction  of 
the  hounds — the  deep,  though  distant  baying  of  the  pack 
— the  half-heard  cries  of  the  huntsmen — the  half-seen 
forms  which  were  discovered  now  emerging  from  glens 
which  crossed  the  moor,  now  sweeping  over  its  surface, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


105 


now  picking  their  way  where  it  was  impeded  by  morasses, 
and,  above  all,  the  feeling  of  his  own  rapid  motion,  ani- 
mated the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  at  least  for  the  mo- 
ment, above  the  recollections  of  a more  painful  nature  by 
which  he  was  surrounded.  The  first  thing  which  recall- 
ed him  to  those  unpleasing  circumstances  was  feeling  that 
his  horse,  notwithstanding  all  the  advantages  which  he 
received  from  his  rider’s  knowledge  of  the  country,  was 
unable  to  keep  up  with  the  chase.  As  he  drew  his  bridle 
up  with  the  bitter  feeling  that  his  poverty  excluded  him 
from  the  favourite  recreation  of  his  forefathers,  and  in- 
deed their  sole  employment  when  not  engaged  in  military 
pursuits,  he  was  accosted  by  a well-mounted  stranger, 
who,  unobserved,  had  kept  near  him  during  the  earlier 
part  of  his  career. 

“ Your  horse  is  blown,”  said  the  man  with  a complai- 
sance seldom  used  in  a hunting-field  ; “ Might  I crave 
your  honour  to  make  use  of  mine 

“ Sir,”  said  Ravenswood,  more  surprised  than  pleased 
at  such  a proposal,  “ I really  do  not  know  how  I have 
merited  such  a favour  at  a stranger’s  hands.” 

“ Never  ask  a question  about  it,  Master,”  said  Buck- 
law,  who,  with  great  unwillingness,  had  hitherto  reined  in 
his  own  gallant  steed,  not  to  outride  his  host  and  enter- 
tainer. “ Take  the  goods  the  gods  provide  you,  as  the 
great  John  Dryden  says — or  stay — here,  my  friend,  lend 
me  that  horse  ; I see  you  have  been  puzzled  to  rein  him 
up  this  half  hour.  I’ll  take  the  devil  out  of  him  for  you. 
Now7,  Master,  do  you  ride  mine,  which  will  carry  you  like 
an  eagle.” 

And  throwing  the  rein  of  his  own  horse  to  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  he  sprung  upon  that  which  the  stranger  re- 
signed to  him,  and  continued  his  career  at  full  speed. 

“ Was  ever  so  thoughtless  a being,”  said  the  Master  ; 
“ and  you,  my  friend,  how  could  you  trust  him  with  your 
horse  ?” 

“ The  horse,”  said  the  man,  “ belongs  to  a person  who 
will  make  your  honour,  or  any  of  your  honourable  friends, 
most  welcome  to  him,  flesh  and  fell.” 


106 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ And  the  owner’s  name  is ?”  asked  Ravenswood. 

“ Your  honour  must  excuse  me,  you  will  learn  that 
from  himself — if  you  please  to  take  your  friend’s  horse, 
and  leave  me  your  galloway,  I will  meet  you  after  the 
fall  of  the  stag,  for  I hear  they  are  blowing  him  at  bay.” 

“ I believe,  my  friend,  it  will  be  the  best  way  to  recover 
your  good  horse  for  you,”  answered  Ravenswood  ; and 
mounting  the  nag  of  his  friend  Rucklaw,  he  made  all  the 
haste  in  his  power  to  the  spot  where  the  blast  of  the  horn 
announced  that  the  stag’s  career  was  nearly  terminated. 

These  jovial  sounds  were  intermixed  with  the  hunts- 
men’s shouts  of  “ Hyke  a Talbot ! Hyke  a Teviot ! now, 
boys,  now  !”  and  similar  cheering  halloos  of  the  olden 
hunting  field,  to  which  the  impatient  yelling  of  the  hounds, 
already  close  on  the  object  of  their  pursuit,  gave  a lively 
and  unremitting  chorus.  The  straggling  riders  began  to 
rally  towards  the  scene  of  action,  collecting  from  different 
points  as  to  a common  centre. 

Bucklaw  kept  the  start  which  he  had  gotten,  and  ar- 
rived first  at  the  spot,  where  the  stag,  incapable  of  sustain- 
ing a more  prolonged  flight,  had  turned  upon  the  hounds, 
arid,  iri  the  hunter’s  phrase  was  at  bay.  With  his  stately 
head  bent  down,  his  sides  white  with  foam,  his  eyes 
strained  betwixt  rage  and  terror,  the  hunted  animal  had 
in  his  turn  become  an  object  of  intimidation  to  his  pursu- 
ers. The  hunters  came  up  one  by  one,  and  watched  an 
opportunity  to  assail  him  with  some  advantage,  which,  in 
such  circumstances,  can  only  be  done  with  caution.  The 
dogs  stood  aloof  and  bayed  loudly,  intimating  at  once  ea- 
gerness and  fear,  and  each  of  the  sportsmen  seemed  to 
expect  that  his  comrade  would  take  upon  him  the  perilous 
task  of  assaulting  and  disabling  the  animal.  The  ground, 
which  was  a hollow  in  the  common  or  moor,  afforded 
little  advantage  for  approaching  the  stag  unobserved,  and 
general  was  the  shout  of  triumph  when  Bucklaw,  with  the 
dexterity  proper  to  an  accomplished  cavalier  of  the  day, 
sprang  from  his  horse,  and  dashing  suddenly  and  swiftly 
at  the  stag,  brought  him  to  the  ground  by  a cut  on  the 
hind  leg,  with  his  short  hunting  sword.  The  pack  rush- 


THE  BRIDE  OE  IAMMEKMOOE. 


107 


ing  in  upon  their  disabled  enemy,  soon  ended  his  painful 
struggles,  and  solemnized  his  fall  with  their  clamour — the 
hunters  with  their  horns  and  voices  whooping  and  blow- 
ing a mort , or  death-note,  which  resounded  far  over  the 
billows  of  the  adjacent  ocean. 

The  huntsman  then  withdrew  the  hounds  from  the 
throttled  stag,  and,  on  his  knee,  presented  his  knife  to  a 
fair  female  form,  on  a white  palfrey,  whose  terror,  or  per- 
haps compassion,  had  till  then  kept  her  at  some  dis- 
tance. She  wore  a black  silk  riding-mask,  which  was 
then  a common  fashion,  as  well  for  preserving  the  com- 
plexion from  sun  and  rain,  as  from  an  idea  of  deco- 
rum, which  did  not  permit  a lady  to  appear  bare-faced, 
while  engaged  in  a boisterous  sport  and  attended  by  a 
promiscuous  company.  The  richness  of  her  dress,  how- 
ever, as  well  as  the  mettle  and  form  of  her  palfrey,  together 
with  the  sylvan  compliment  paid  to  her  by  the  huntsman, 
pointed  her  out  to  Bucklaw  as  the  principal  person  in  the 
field.  It  was  not  without  a feeling  of  piry,  approaching 
even  to  contempt,  that  this  enthusiastic  hunter  observed 
her  refuse  the  huntsman’s  knife,  presented  to  her  for  the 
purpose  of  making  the  first  incision  in  the  stag’s  breast, 
and  thereby  discovering  the  quality  of  the  venison.  He 
felt  more  than  half  inclined  to  pay  his  compliments  to  her ; 
but  it  had  been  Bucklaw’s  misfortune,  that  his  habits  of 
life  had  not  rendered  him  familiarly  acquainted  with  the 
higher  and  better  classes  of  female  society,  so  that,  with 
all  his  natural  audacity,  he  felt  sheepish  and  bashful  when 
it  became  necessary  to  address  a lady  of  distinction. 

Taking  unto  himself  heart  of  grace  (to  use  his  own 
phrase,)  he  did  at  length  summon  up  resolution  enough  to 
give  the  fair  huntress  good  time  of  the  day,  and  trust  that 
her  sport  had  answered  her  expectation.  Her  answer 
was  very  courteously  and  modestly  expressed  and  testifi- 
ed some  gratitude  to  the  gallant  cavalier,  whose  exploit 
had  terminated  the  chase  so  adroitly,  when  the  hounds 
and  huntsmen  seemed  somewhat  at  a stand. 

“ Uds  daggers  and  scabbard,  madam,”  said  Bucklaw, 
whom  this  observation  brought  at  once  upon  his  owa 


108 


TAXES  OF  MY  XA1NTDXORD. 


ground,  “ there  is  no  difficulty  or  merit  in  that  matter  at 
all,  so  that  a fellow  is  not  too  much  afraid  of  having  a pair 
of  antlers  in  his  guts.  1 have  hunted  at  force  five  hundred 
times,  madam  ; and  1 never  yet  saw  the  stag  at  bay,  by 
land  or  water,  but  I durst  have  gone  roundly  in  on  him. 
It  is  all  use  and  wont,  madam  ; and  I’ll  tell  you,  madam, 
for  all  that,  it  must  be  done  with  good  heed  and  caution  ; 
and  you  will  do  well,  madam,  to  have  your  hunting-sword 
both  right  sharp  and  double-edged,  that  you  may  strike 
either  fore-handed  or  back-handed,  as  you  see  reason,  for 
a hurt  with  a buck’s  horn  is  a perilous  and  somewhat 
venomous  matter.” 

“ I am  afraid,  sir,”  said  the  young  lady,  and  her  smile 
was  scarce  concealed  by  her  vizard,  “ I shall  have  little 
use  for  such  careful  preparation.” 

“ But  the  gentleman  says  very  right,  for  all  that,  my 
lady,”  said  an  old  huntsman,  who  had  listened  to  Buck- 
law’s  harangue  with  no  small  edification  ; “ and  I have 
heard  my  father  say,  who  was  a forester  at  the  Cabrach, 
that  a wild  boar’s  gaunch  is  more  easily  healed  than  a 
hurt  from  the  deer’s  horn,  for  so  says  the  old  woodman’s 
rhyme, 

1 If  thou  be  hurt  with  horn  of  hart,  it  brings  thee  to  thy  bier ; 

But  tusk  of  boar  shall  leeches  heal — thereof  have  lesser  fear/  v 

“ An  I might  advise,”  continued  Bucklaw,  who  was 
now  in  his  element,  and  desirous  of  assuming  the  whole 
management,  “ as  the  hounds  are  surbated  and  weary,  the 
head  of  the  stag  should  be  cabbaged  in  order  to  reward 
them  ; and  if  1 may  presume  to  speak,  the  huntsman  who 
is  to  break  up  the  stag,  ought  to  drink  to  your  good  lady- 
ship’s health  a good  lusty  bicker  of  ale,  or  a tass  of  bran- 
dy ; for  if  he  breaks  him  up  without  drinking,  the  venison 
will  not  keep  well.” 

This  very  agreeable  prescription  received,  as  will  be 
readily  believed,  all  acceptation  from  the  huntsman,  who 
in  requital  offered  to  Bucklaw  the  compliment  of  his 
knife,  which  the  young  lady  had  declined.  This  polite 
proffer  was  seconded  by  his  mistress. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


109 


u I believe,  sir,”  said  she,  withdrawing  herself  from 
the  circle,  “ that  my  father,  for  whose  amusement  Lord 
Bittlebrains’  hounds  have  been  out  to-day,  will  readily 
surrender  all  care  of  these  matters  to  a gentleman  of 
your  experience.” 

Then  bending  gracefully  from  her  horse,  she  wished 
him  good  morning,  and,  attended  by  one  or  two  domes- 
tics, who  seemed  immediately  attached  to  her  service, 
retired  from  the  scene  of  action,  to  which  Bucklaw,  too 
much  delighted  with  an  opportunity  of  displaying  bis 
wood-craft  to  care  about  man  or  woman  either,  paid  little 
attention  ; but  was  soon  stript  to  his  doublet,  with  tucked- 
up  sleeves,  and  naked  arms  up  to  the  elbows  in  blood  and 
grease,  slashing,  cutting,  hacking,  and  hewing,  with  the 
precision  of  Sir  Tristrem  himself,  and  wrangling  and  dis- 
puting with  all  around  him  concerning  nombles,  briskets, 
flankards,  and  raven-bones,  then  usual  terms  of  the  art  of 
hunting,  or  of  butchery,  whichever  the  reader  chooses 
to  call  it,  but  which  are  now  probably  antiquated. 

When  Ravenswood,  who  followed  a short  space  behind 
his  friend,  saw  that  the  stag  had  fallen,  his  temporary  ar- 
dour for  the  chase  gave  way  to  that  feeling  of  reluctance 
which  he  endured  at  encountering  in  his  fallen  fortunes 
the  gaze  whether  of  equals  or  inferiors.  He  reined  up 
his  horse  on  the  top  of  a gentle  eminence,  from  which  he 
observed  the  busy  and  gay  scene  beneath  him,  and  heard 
the  whoops  of  the  huntsmen  gaily  mingled  with  the  cry 
of  the  dogs,  and  the  neighing  and  trampling  of  horses. 
But  these  jovial  sounds  fell  sadly  on  the  ear  of  the  ruined 
nobleman.  The  chase,  with  all  its  train  of  excitations, 
has  ever  since  feudal  times  been  accounted  the  almost 
exclusive  privilege  of  the  aristocracy,  and  was  anciently 
their  chief  employment  in  times  of  peace.  The  sense 
that  he  was  excluded  by  his  situation  from  enjoying  the 
sylvan  sport,  which  his  rank  assigned  to  him  as  a special 
prerogative,  and  the  feeling  that  new  men  were  now  ex- 
ercising it  over  the  downs,  which  had  been  jealously  re- 
served by  his  ancestors  for  their  own  amusement,  while 

10  VOL.  i. 


110 


TALES  OF  MY  3.ANDLORD. 


he,  the  heir  of  the  domain,  was  fain  to  hold  himself  at  a 
distance  from  their  party,  awakened  reflections  calculated 
to  depress  deeply  a mind  like  Ravenswood’s,  which  was 
naturally  contemplative  and  melancholy.  His  pride,  how- 
ever, soon  shook  off  this  feeling  of  dejection,  and  it  gave 
way  to  impatience  upon  finding  that  his  volatile  friend 
Bucklaw  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  return  with  his  borrowed 
steed,  which  Ravensvvood,  before  leaving  the 'field,  wished 
to  see  restored  to  the  obliging  owner.  As  he  was  about 
to  move  towards  the  group  of  assembled  huntsmen,  he 
was  joined  by  a horseman,  who  like  himself  had  kept 
aloof  during  the  fall  of  the  deer. 

This  personage  seemed  stricken  in  years,  He  wore 
a scarlet  cloak,  buttoning  high  upon  his  face,  and  his 
hat  was  unlooped  and  slouched,  probably  by  way  of 
defence  against  the  weather.  His  horse,  a strong  and 
steady  palfrey,  was  calculated  for  a rider  who  proposed 
to  witness  the  sport  of  the  day,  rather  than  to  share  it. 
An  attendant  waited  at  some  distance,  and  the  whole 
equipment  v/as  that  of  an  elderly  gentleman  of  rank  and 
fashion.  He  accosted  Ravenswood  very  politely,  but  not 
without  some  embarrassment. 

“ You  seem  a gallant  young  gentleman,  sir,”  he  said, 
“ and  yet  appear  as  indifferent  to  this  brave  sport  as  if 
you  had  my  load  of  years  on  your  shoulders.” 

“ I have  followed  the  sport  with  more  spirit  on  other 
occasions,”  replied  the  Master.;  “ at  present,  late  events 
in  my  family  must  be  my  apology — and  besides,”  he  add- 
ed, “ I was  but  indifferently  mounted  at  the  beginning  of 
the  sport.” 

“ I think,”  said  the  stranger,  “ one  of  my  attendants 
had  the  sense  to  accommodate  your  friend  with  a horse.” 

“ I was  much  indebted  to  his  politeness  and  yours,”  re- 
plied Ravenswrood.  u My  friend  is  Mr.  Hayston  of  Buck- 
law,  whom  1 dare  say  you  will  be  sure  to  find  in  the  thick 
of  the  keenest  sportsmen.  He  will  return  your  servant’s 
horse,  and  take  my  pony  in  exchange — and  will  add,” 
he  concluded,  turning  his  horse’s  head  from  the  stranger, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


1U 


“ his  best  acknowledgments  to  mine  for  the  accommo- 
dation.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  having  thus  expressed 
himself,  began  to  move  homeward,  with  the  manner  of 
one  who  has  taken  leave  of  his  company.  But  the 
stranger  was  not  so  to  be  shaken  off.  He  turned  his 
horse  at  the  same  time,  and  rode  in  the  same  direction 
so  near  to  the  Master,  that,  without  outriding  him,  which 
the  formal  civility  of  the  time,  and  the  respect  due  to  the 
stranger’s  age  and  recent  civility,  would  have  rendered 
improper,  he  could  not  easily  escape  from  his  company. 

The  stranger  did  not  long  remain  silent.  “ This  then,” 
he  said,  “ is  the  ancient  Castle  of  Wolf’s  Crag,  often  men- 
tioned in  the  Scottish  records,”  looking  to  the  old  tower 
then  darkening  under  the  influence  of  a stormy  cloud,  that 
formed  its  back  ground  ; for  at  the  distance  of  a short 
mile,  the  chase  having  been  circuitous,  had  brought  the 
hunters  nearly  back  to  the  point  which  they  had  attained 
when  Ravenswood  and  Bucklaw  had  set  forward  to  join 
them. 

Ravenswood  answered  this  observation  with  a cold  and 
distant  assent. 

“ It  was,  as  I have  heard,”  continued  the  stranger, 
unabashed  by  his  coldness,  “ one  of  the  most  early  pos- 
sessions of  the  honourable  family  of  Ravenswood.” 

“ Their  earliest  possession,”  answered  the  Master, 
“ and  probably  their  latest.” 

“ I — I — I should  hope  not,  sir,”  answered  the  stran- 
ger, clearing  his  voice  with  more  than  one  cough,  and 
making  an  effort  to  overcome  a certain  degree  of  hesita- 
tion,— “ Scotland  knows  what  she  owes  to  this  ancient 
family,  and  remembers  their  frequent  and  honourable 
achievements.  I have  little  doubt,  that,  were  it  properly 
represented  to  her  Majesty  that  so  ancient  and  noble  a 
family  were  subjected  to  dilapidation — I mean  to  decay 
— means  might  be  found,  ad  re-tzdijicandum  antiquam 
domum ” 

“ 1 will  save  you  the  trouble,  sir,  of  discussing  this 
point  farther,”  said  the  Master  haughtily.  “ 1 am  the 


112 


TAXES  OF  MY  XANDXORD. 


heir  of  that  unfortunate  House — I am  the  Master  of  Rav- 
enswood — and  you  sir,  who  seem  to  be  a gentleman  of 
fashion  and  education,  must  be  sensible,  that  the  next 
mortification  after  being  unhappy,  is  the  being  loaded 
with  undesired  commiseration.” 

“ I beg  your  pardon,  sir,”  said  the  elder  horseman — 
u I did  not  know — 1 am  sensible  that  I ought  not  to  have 
mentioned — nothing  could  be  farther  from  my  thoughts 
than  to  suppose” 

“ There  are  no  apologies  necessary,  sir,”  answered 
Ravenswood,  “ for  here,  I suppose,  our  roads  separate, 
and  I assure  you  that  we  part  in  perfect  equanimity  on 
my  side.” 

As  speaking  these  words,  he  directed  his  horse’s  head 
towards  a narrow  causeway,  the  ancient  approach  to 
Wolf’s  Crag,  of  which  it  might  be  truly  said,  in  the  words 
of  the  Bard  of  Hope,  that 

1 Frequented  by  few  was  the  grass-cover’d  road, 

Where  the  hunter  of  deer  and  the  warrior  had  trod, 

To  his  hills  that  encircle  the  sea.; 

But,  ere  he  could  disengage  himself  from  his  companion, 
the  young  lady  we  have  already  mentioned  came  up  to 
join  the  stranger,  followed  by  her  servants. 

“ Daughter,”  said  the  stranger  to  the  masked  damsel, 
u this  is  the  Master  of  Ravenswood.” 

It  would  have  been  natural  that  the  gentleman  should 
have  replied  to  this  introduction  ; but  there  was  something 
in  the  graceful  form  and  retiring  modesty  of  the  female 
to  whom  he  was  thus  presented,  which  not  only  prevent- 
ed him  from  inquiring  to  whom,  and  by  whom,  the  an- 
nunciation had  been  made,  hut  which  even  for  the  time 
struck  him  absolutely  mute.  At  this  moment  the  cloud 
which  had  long  lowered  above  the  height  on  which 
WolPs  Crag  is  situated,  and  which  now,  as  it  advanced, 
spread  itself  in  darker  and  denser  folds  both  over  land 
and  sea,  hiding  the  distant  objects  and  obscuring  those 
which  were  nearer,  turning  the  sea  to  a leaden  complex- 
ion, and  the  heath  to  a darker  brown,  began  now,  by 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


113 


one  or  two  distant  peals,  to  announce  the  thunders  with 
which  it  was  fraught ; while  two  flashes  of  lightning,  fol- 
lowing each  other  very  closely,  showed  in  the  distance 
the  grey  turrets  of  Wolfs  Crag,  and,  more  nearly,  the 
rolling  billows  of  the  ocean,  crested  suddenly  with  red 
and  dazzling, light. 

The  horse  of  the  fair  huntress  showed  symptoms  of 
impatience  and  restiveness,  and  it  became  impossible  for 
Ravenswood,  as  a man  or  a gentleman,  to  leave  her  ab- 
ruptly to  the  care  of  an  aged  father  or  her  menial  attend- 
ants. He  was,  or  believed  himself,  obliged  in  courtesy 
to  take  hold  of  her  bridle,  and  assist  her  in  managing  the 
unruly  animal.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  the  old  gen- 
tleman observed  that  the  storm  seemed  to  increase — that 
they  were  far  from  Lord  Bittlebrains’s  Castle,  whose  guests 
they  were  for  the  present — and  that  he  would  be  obliged 
to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  to  point  him  out  the  way  to 
the  nearest  place  of  refuge  from  the  storm.  At  the  same 
time  he  cast  a wistful  and  embarrassed  look  towards  the 
Tower  of  Wolfs  Crag,  which  seemed  to  render  it  almost 
impossible  for  the  owner  to  avoid  offering  an  old  man  and 
a lady,  in  such  an  emergency,  the  temporary  use  of  his 
house.  Indeed,  the  condition  of  the  young  huntress  ren- 
dered this  courtesy  indispensable  ; for,  in  the  course  of 
the  services  which  he  rendered,  he  could  not  but  perceive 
that  she  trembled  much,  and  was  extremely  agitated, 
from  her  apprehensions,  doubtless,  of  the  coming  storm. 

I know  not  if  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  shared  her 
terrors,  but  he  was  not  entirely  free  from  something  like 
a similar  disorder  of  nerves,  as  he  observed,  “ The  Tow- 
er of  Wolfs  Crag  has  nothing  to  offer  beyond  the  shelter 
of  its  roof,  but  if  that  can  be  acceptable  at  such  a mo- 
ment”— he  paused,  as  if  the  rest  of  the  invitation  stuck  in 
his  throat.  But  the  old  gentleman,  his  self-constituted 
companion,  did  not  allow  him  to  recede  from  the  invita- 
tion, which  he  had  rather  suffered  to  be  implied  than  di- 
rectly expressed. 

10*  VOL.  I. 


114 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


i:  The  storm,”  said  the  stranger,  “ must  be  an  apology 
for  waving  ceremony — his  daughter’s  health  was  weak — 
she  had  suffered  much  from  a recent  alarm — he  trusted 
their  intrusion  on  the  Master  of  Ravenswood’s  hospitality 
would  not  be  altogether  unpardonable  in  the  circumstances 
of  the  case — his  child’s  safety  must  be  dearer  to  him 
than  ceremony.” 

There  was  no  room  to  retreat.  The  Master  of  Rav- 
enswood  led  the  way,  continuing  to  keep  hold  of  the 
lady’s  bridle  to  prevent  her  horse  from  starting  at  some 
unexpected  explosion  of  thunder.  He  was  not  so  be- 
wildered in  his  own  hurried  reflections,  but  that  he  re- 
marked, that  the  deadly  paleness  which  had  occupied 
her  neck  and  temples,  and  such  of  her  features  as  the 
riding-mask  left  exposed,  gave  place  to  a deep  and  rosy 
suffusion  ; and  he  felt  with  embarrassment  that  a flush 
was  by  tacit  sympathy  excited  in  his  own  cheeks.  The 
stranger,  with  watchfulness  which  he  disguised  under  ap- 
prehensions for  the  safety  of  his  daughter,  continued  to 
observe  the  expression  of  the  Master’s  countenance  as 
they  ascended  the  hill  to  Wolfs  Crag.  When  they  stood 
in  front  of  that  ancient  fortress,  Ravenswood’s  emotions 
wrere  of  a very  complicated  description  ; and  as  he  led 
the  way  into  the  rude  court-yard,  and  halloo’d  to  Caleb 
to  give  attendance,  there  was  a tone  of  sternness,  almost 
of  fierceness,  which  seemed  somewhat  alien  from  the 
courtesies  of  one  who  is  receiving  honoured  guests. 

Caleb  came  ; and  not  the  paleness  of  the  fair  stranger 
at  the  first  approach  of  the  thunder,  nor  the  paleness  of 
any  other  person,  in  any  other  circumstances  whatsoever, 
equalled  that  which  overcame  the  thin  cheeks  of  the  dis- 
consolate seneschal,  when  he  beheld  this  accession  of 
guests  to  the  castle,  and  reflected  that  the  dinner  hour 
was  fast  approaching.  “ Is  he  daft  9”  he  muttered  to 
himself, — “ is  he  clean  daft  a’thegither,  to  bring  lords  and 
leddies,  and  a host  of  folks  behint  them,  and  twal-o’clock 
chappit  9”  Then  approaching  the  Master,  he  craved 
pardon  for  having  permitted  the  rest  of  his  people  to  go 
out  to  see  the  hunt,  observing,  that  “ they  wad  never 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


115 


think  of  his  lordship  coming  back  till  mirk  night,  and 
that  he  dreaded  they  might  play  the  truant.” 

“ Silence,  Balderstone  !”  said  Ravenswood  sternly  ; 
“ your  folly  is  unseasonable. — Sir  and  madam,”  he  said, 
turning  to  his  guests,  “ this  old  man,  and  a yet  older  and 
more  imbecile  female  domestic,  form  my  whole  retinue. 
Our  means  of  refreshing  you  are  more  scanty  than  even 
so  miserable  a retinue,  and  a dwelling  so  dilapidated, 
might  seem  to  promise  you  ; but,  such  as  they  may  chance 
to  be,  you  may  command  them.” 

The  elder  stranger,  struck  with  the  ruined  and  even 
savage  appearance  of  the  tower,  rendered  still  more  dis- 
consolate by  the  lowering  and  gloomy  sky,  and  perhaps 
not  altogether  unmoved  by  the  grave  and  determined 
voice  in  which  their  host  addressed  them,  looked  round 
him  anxiously,  as  if  he  half  repented  the  readiness  with 
which  he  had  accepted  the  offered  hospitality.  But 
there  was  now  no  opportunity  of  receding  from  the  situ- 
ation in  which  he  had  placed  himself. 

As  for  Caleb,  he  was  so  utterly  stunned  by  his  mas- 
ter’s public  and  unqualified  acknowledgment  of  the  nak- 
edness of  the  land,  that  for  two  minutes  he  could  only 
mutter  within  his  hebdomadal  beard,  which  had  not  felt 
the  razor,  for  six  days,  “ He’s  daft — clean  daft — red 
wud,  and  awa’  wi’t  ! But  de’il  hae  Caleb  Balderstone,” 
said  he,  collecting  his  powers  of  invention  and  resource, 
“ if  the  family  shall  lose  credit,  if  he  were  as  mad  as  the 
seven  wise  masters.”  He  then  boldly  advanced,  and  in 
spite  of  his  master’s  frowns  and  impatience,  gravely  ask- 
ed, “ if  he  should  not  serve  up  some  slight  refection  for 
the  young  leddy,  and  a glass  of  tokay,  or  old  sack — or” — 
“ Truce  to  this  ill-timed  foolery,”  said  the  Pvlaster 
sternly — cc  put  the  horses  into  the  stable  and  interrupt  us 
no  more  with  your  absurdities.” 

“ Your  honour’s  pleasure  is  to  be  obeyed  aboon  a’ 
tilings,”  said  Caleb  ; “ nevertheless,  as  for  the  sack  and 
tokay  which  it  is  not  your  noble  guests’  pleasure  to 
accept” 


116 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


But  here  the  voice  of  Bucklaw,  heard  even  above  the 
clattering  of  hoofs  and  braying  of  horns  with  which  it 
mingled,  announced  that  he  was  scaling  the  pathway  to 
the  tower  at  the  head  of  the  greater1  part  of  the  gallant 
hunting  train. 

“ The  de’il  be  in  me,”  said  Caleb,  taking  heart  in  spite 
of  this  new  invasion  of  Philistines,  “ if  they  shall  beat 
me  yet.  The  hellicat  ne’er-do-weel  ! — to  bring  such  a 
crew  here,  that  will  expect  to  find  brandy  as  plenty  as 
ditch-water,  and  he  kenning  sae  absolutely  the  case  in 
whilk  we  stand  for  the  present  ! But  I trow,  could  I get 
rid  of  thae  gaping  gowks  of  flunkies  that  hae  won  into 
the  court-yard  at  the  back  of  their  betters,  as  mony  a 
man  gels  preferment,  I could  make  a’  right  yet.” 

The  measures  which  he  took  to  execute  this  dauntless 
resolution,  the  reader  shall  learn  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

With  throat  unslacked,  with  black  lips  baked, 

Agape  they  heard  him  call  ; 

Gramercy  they  for  joy  did  grin, 

And  all  at  once  their  breath  drew  in 
As  they  had  been  drinking  all. 

Coleridge' s u Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner  ” 

IIayston  of  Bucklaw  was  one  of  the  thoughtless  class 
who  never  hesitate  between  their  friend  and  their  jest. 
When  it  was  announced  that  the  principal  persons  of  the 
chase  had  taken  their  route  towards  Wolf’s  Crag,  the 
huntsmen,  as  a point  of  civility,  offered  to  transfer  the 
venison  to  that  mansion,  a proffer  which  was  readily  ac- 
cepted by  Bucklaw,  who  thought  much  of  the  astonish- 
ment which  their  arrival  in  full  body  would  occasion  poor 
old  Caleb  Balderstone,  and  very  little  of  the  dilemma  to 
which  lie  was  about  to  expose  his  friend  the  Master,  so  ill 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


117 


circumstanced  to  receive  such  a party.  But  in  old  Ca- 
leb he  had  to  do  with  a crafty  and  alert  antagonist,  prompt 
at  supplying,  upon  all  emergencies,  evasions  and  excuses 
suitable,  as  he  thought,  to  the  dignity  of  the  family. 

“ Praise  be  blessed  !”  said  Caleb  to  himself,  “ ae  leaf 
of  the  m tickle  gate  has  been  swung  to  wi’  yestreen’s 
wind,  and  I think  I can  manage  to  shut  the  ither.” 

But  he  was  desirous,  like  a prudent  governor,  at  the 
same  time  to  get  rid,  if  possible,  of  the  internal  enemy, 
in  which  light  he  considered  almost  every  one  who  ate 
and  drank,  ere  he  took  measures  to  exclude  those  whom 
their  jocund  noise  now  pronounced  to  be  near  at  hand. 
He  waited,  therefore,  with  impatience  until  his  master 
had  shown  his  two  principal  guests  into  the  tower,  and 
then  commenced  his  operations. 

“I  think,”  said  he  to  the  stranger  menials,  “ that  as 
they  are  bringing  the  stag’s  head  to  the  castle  in  all  hon- 
our, we,  who  are  in-dwellers,  should  receive  them  at  the 
gate.” 

The  unwary  grooms  had  no  sooner  hurried  out,  in 
compliance  with  this  insidious  hint,  than,  one  folding-door 
of  the  ancient  gate  being  already  closed  by  the  wind,  as 
has  been  already  intimated,  honest  Caleb  lost  no  time  in 
shutting  the  other  with  a clang,  which  resounded  from 
donjon-vault  to  battlement.  Having  thus  secured  the 
pass,  he  forthwith  indulged  the  excluded  huntsmen  in 
brief  parley,  from  a small  projecting  window,  or  shot- 
hole,  through  which,  in  former  days,  the  warders  were 
wont  to  reconnoitre  those  who  presented  themselves  be- 
fore the  gates.  He  gave  them  to  understand,  in  9 short 
and  pithy  speech,  that  the  gate  of  the  Castle  was  never 
on  any  account  opened  during  meal-times — that  his  hon- 
our, the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and  some  guests  of 
quality,  had  just  sat  down  to  dinner — that  there  was  ex- 
cellent brandy  at  the  hostler-wife’s  at  WolPs-hope  down 
below — and  he  held  out  some  obscure  hope  that  the  reck- 
oning would  be  discharged  by  the  Master  ; but  this  was 
uttered  in  a very  dubious  and  oracular  strain,  for,  like 
Louis  XIV.,  Caleb  Balderstone  hesitated  to  carry  finesse 


118 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


so  far  as  to  direct  falsehood,  and  was  content  to  deceive, 
if  possible,  without  directly  lying. 

This  annunciation  was  received  with  surprise  by  some, 
with  laughter  by  others,  and  with  dismay  by  the  expelled 
lacqueys,  who  endeavoured  to  demonstrate  that  their 
right  of  re-admission,  for  the  purpose  of  waiting  upon 
their  master  and  mistress,  was  at  least  indisputable.  But 
Caleb  was  not  in  a humour  to  understand  or  admit  any 
distinctions.  He  stuck  to  his  original  proposition  with 
that  dogged,  but  convenient  pertinacity,  which  is  armed 
against  all  conviction  and  deaf  to  all  reasoning.  Buck- 
law  now  came  from  the  rear  of  the  party,  and  demanded 
admittance  in  a very  angry  tone.  But  the  resolution  of 
Caleb  was  immovable. 

“ If  the  King  on  the  throne  were  at  the  gate,55  he  de- 
clared, “ that  his  ten  fingers  should  never  open  it  con- 
trair  to  the  established  use  and  wont  of  the  family  of 
Ravenswood,  and  his  duty  as  their  head-servant.55 

Bucklaw  was  now  extremely  incensed,  and  with  more 
oaths  and  curses  than  we  care  to  repeat,  declared  himself 
most  unworthily  treated,  and  demanded  peremptorily  to 
speak  with  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  himself.  But  to 
this  also  Caleb  turned  a deaf  ear. 

“ He’s  as  soon  a-bleeze  as  a tap  of  tow  the  lad  Buck- 
law,55  he  said,  “ but  the  de’il  of  ony  Master’s  face  he 
shall  see  till  he  has  sleepit  and  waken’d  on’t.  He’ll  ken 
himsell  better  the  morn’s  morning.  It  sets  the  like  of 
him,  to  be  bringing  a crew  of  drunken  hunters  here, 
when  he  kens  there  is  but  little  preparation  to  sloken  his 
ain  drought.”  And  he  disappeared  from  the  window, 
leaving  them  all  to  digest  their  exclusion  as  they  best 
might. 

But  another  person,  of  whose  presence  Caleb,  in  the 
animation  of  the  debate,  was  not  aware,  had  listened  in 
silence  to  its  progress.  This  was  the  principal  domestic 
of  the  stranger — a man  of  trust  and  consequence — the 
same,  who,  in  the  hunting-field  had  accommodated  Buck- 
law  with  the  use  of  his  horse.  He  was  in  the  stable 
when  Caleb  had  contrived  the  expulsion  of  his  fellow’- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


119 


servants,  and  thus  avoided  sharing  the  same  fate  from 
which  his  personal  importance  would  certainly  not  have 
otherwise  saved  him. 

This  personage  perceived  the  manoeuvres  of  Caleb, 
easily  appreciated  the  motive  of  his  conduct,  and  know  ing 
his  master’s  intentions  towards  the  family  of  Ravenswood, 
had  no  difficulty  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  he  ought  to 
adopt.  He  took  the  place  of  Caleb  (unperceived  by  the 
latter,)  at  the  post  of  audience  which  he  had  just  left,  and 
announced  to  the  assembled  domestics,  “ that  it  was  his 
master’s  pleasure  that  Lord  Bittlebrains-  retinue  and  his 
own  should  go  down  to  the  adjacent  Change-house,  and 
call  for  what  refreshments  they  might  have  occasion  for, 
and  he  should  take  care  to  discharge  the  lawing.” 

The  jolly  troop  of  huntsmen  retired  from  the  inhospita- 
ble gate  of  Wolf’s  Crag,  execrating,  as  they  descended 
the  steep  path-way,  the  niggard  and  unworthy  disposition 
of  the  proprietor,  and  damning,  with  more  than  sylvan 
license,  both  the  castle  and  its  inhabitants.  Bucklaw, 
with  many  qualities  which  would  have  made  him  a man 
of  worth  and  judgment  in  more  favourable  circumstances, 
had  been  so  utterly  neglected  in  point  of  education,  that 
he  was  apt  to  think  and  feel  according  to  the  ideas  of  the 
companions  of  his  pleasures.  The  praises  which  had  re- 
cently been  heaped  upon  himself  he  contrasted  with  the 
general  abuse  now  levelled  against  Ravenswood — he  re- 
called to  his  mind  the  dull  and  monotonous  days  he  had 
spent  in  the  tower  of  Wolfs  Crag,  compared  with  the 
joviality  of  his  usual  life— he  felt,  with  great  indignation, 
his  exclusion  from  the  castle,  which  he  considered  as  a 
gross  affront,  and  every  mingled  feeling  led  him  to  break 
off  the  union  which  he  had  formed  with  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood. 

On  arriving  at  the  Change-house  of  the  village  of 
WolPs-hope,  he  unexpectedly  met  with  an  old  acquaint- 
ance just  alighting  from  his  horse.  This  was  no  other 
than  the  very  respectable  Captain  Craigengelt,  who  im- 
mediately came  up  to  him,  and  without  appearing  to  re- 
tain any  recollection  of  the  indifferent  terms  on  which 


J20 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


they  had  parted,  shook  him  by  the  hand  in  the  warmest 
manner  possible.  A warm  grasp  of  the  hand  was  what 
Bucklaw  could  never  help  returning  with  cordiality,  and 
no  sooner  had  Craigengelt  felt  the  pressure  of  his  fingers 
than  he  knew  the  terms  on  which  he  stood  with  him. 

“ Long  life  to  you,  Bucklaw  !”  he  exclaimed  ; “ there’s 
life  for  honest  folks  in  this  bad  world  yet  !” 

The  Jacobites  at  this  period,  with  what  propriety  I 
know  not,  used,  it  must  be  noticed,  the  term  of  honest  men 
as  peculiarly  descriptive  of  their  own  party. 

“ Ay,  and  for  others  besides,  it  seems,”  answered  Buck- 
law  ; “ otherwise  how  came  you  to  venture  hither,  noble 
Captain  9” 

“ Who — I 1 — I am  as  free  as  the  wind  at  Martinmas, 
that  pays  neither  land-rent  nor  annual ; all  is  explained — 
all  settled  with  the  honest  old  drivellers  yonder  of  Auld 
Reekie — Pooh  ! pooh  ! they  dared  not  keep  me  a week 
of  days  in  durance.  A certain  person  has  better  friends 
among  them  than  you  wot  of,  and  can  serve  a friend  when 
it  is  least  likely.” 

“ Pshaw  !”  answered  Hayston,  who  perfectly  knew 
and  thoroughly  despised  the  character  of  this  man,  “ none 
of  your  cogging  gibberish — tell  me  truly,  are  you  at  lib- 
erty and  in  safety  9” 

“ Free  and  safe  as  a whig  baillie  on  the  causeway  of 
his  borough,  or  a canting  Presbyterian  minister  in  his  own 
pulpit — and  I came  to  tell  you  that  you  need  not  remain 
in  hiding  any  longer.” 

“ Then  I suppose  you  call  yourself  my  friend,  Captain 
Craigengelt  9”  said  Bucklaw. 

“ Friend  !”  replied  Craigengelt,  “ my  cock  of  the  pit  9 
why,  I am  thy  very  Achates,  man,  as  1 have  heard  schol- 
ars say — hand  and  glove — bark  and  tree — thine  to  life 
and  death.” 

“ I’ll  try  that  in  a moment,”  said  Bucklaw.  “ Thou 
art  never  without  money,  however  thou  comest  by  it — 
Lend  me  two  pieces  to  wash  the  dust  out  of  these  honest 
fellows’  throats,  in  the  first  place,  and  then” — 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


121 


u Two  pieces  9 — twenty  are  at  thy  service, — -my  lad — 
and  twenty  to  back  them.” 

“ Ay — say  you  so  said  Bucklaw,  pausing,  for  his 
natural  penetration  led  him  to  suspect  some  extraordinary 
motive  lay  couched  under  such  an  excess  of  generosity. 
“ Craigengelt,  you  are  either  an  honest  fellow  in  right 
good  earnest,  and  I scarce  know  how  to  believe  that — or 
you  are  cleverer  than  1 took  you  for,  and  I scarce  know 
how  to  believe  that  either.” 

“ LSun  n\mpeche  pas  Vautre ,”  said  Craigengelt, 
“ touch  and  try — the  gold  is  good  as  ever  was  weighed.” 
He  put  a quantity  of  gold  pieces  into  Bucklaw’s  hand, 
which  he  thrust  into  his  pocket  without  either  counting  or 
looking  at  them,  only  observing,  “ that  he  was  so  circum- 
stanced that  he  must  enlist,  though  the  devil  offered  the 
press-money  ;”  and  then  turning  to  the  huntsmen,  he 
called  out,  “ Come  along,  my  lads — all  is  at  my  cost.” 

“ Long  life  to  Bucklaw  !”  shouted  the  men  of  the  chase. 

“ And  d n to  him  that  takes  his  share  of  the  sport, 

and  leaves  the  hunters  as  dry  as  a drum-head,”  added 
another,  by  way  of  corollary. 

“ The  house  of  Ravenswood  was  ance  a gude  and  an 
honourable  house  in  this  land,”  said  an  old  man,  “ but  it’s 
lost  its  credit  this  day,  and  the  Master  has  shown  himself 
no  better  than  a greedy  cullion.” 

And  with  this  conclusion,  which  was  unanimously 
agreed  to  by  all  who  heard  it,  they  rushed  tumultuously 
into  the  house  of  entertainment,  where  they  revelled  till  a 
late  hour.  The  jovial  temper  of  Bucklaw7  seldom  per* 
mitted  him  to  be  nice  in  the  choice  of  his  associates  ; and 
on  the  present  occasion,  w7hen  his  joyous  debauch  receiv- 
ed additional  zest  from  the  intervention  of  an  unusual  space 
of  sobriety,  and  almost  abstinence,  he  was  as  happy  in 
leading  the  revels,  as  if  his  comrades  had  been  sons  of 
princes.  Craigengelt  had  his  own  purposes,  in  fooling 
him  up  to  the  top  of  his  bent ; and  having  some  low  hu- 
mour, much  impudence,  and  the  power  of  singing  a good 
song,  understanding  besides  thoroughly  the  disposition  of 
11  VOL.  I. 


122 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


his  regained  associate,  he  readily  succeeded  in  involving 
him  bumper-deep  in  the  festivity  of  the  meeting. 

A very  different  scene  was  in  the  meantime  passing  in 
the  tower  of  Wolfs  Crag.  When  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  left  the  court-yard,  too  much  busied  with  his  own 
perplexed  reflections  to  pay  attention  to  the  manoeuvre 
of  Caleb,  he  ushered  his  guests  into  the  great  hall  of  the 
Castle. 

The  indefatigable  Balderstone,  who,  from  choice  or 
habit,  worked  on  from  morning  to  night,  had,  by  degrees, 
cleared  this  desolate  apartment  of  the  confused  reliques  of 
the  funeral  banquet,  and  restored  it  to  some  order.  But 
not  all  his  skill  and  labour,  in  disposing  to  advantage  the 
little  furniture  which  remained,  could  remove  the  dark  and 
disconsolate  appearance  of  those  ancient  and  disfurnished 
walls.  The  narrow  windows,  flanked  by  deep  indentures 
into  the  wall,  seemed  formed  rather  to  exclude  than  to 
admit  the  cheerful  light  ; and  the  heavy  and  gloomy  ap- 
pearance of  the  thunder-sky  added  still  farther  to  the  ob- 
scurity. 

As  Ravenswood,  with  the  grace  of  a gallant  of  that 
period,  but  not  without  a certain  stiffness  and  embarrass- 
ment of  manners,  handed  the  young  lady  to  the  upper 
end  of  the  apartment,  her  father  remained  standing  more 
near  to  the  door,  as  if  about  to  disengage  himself  from 
his  hat  and  cloak.  At  this  moment  the  clang  of  the  portal 
was  heard,  a sound  at  which  the  stranger  started,  stepped 
hastily  to  the  window,  and  looked  with  an  air  of  alarm  at 
Ravenswood,  when  he  saw  that  the  gate  of  the  court  was 
shut,  and  his  domestics  excluded. 

“ You  have  nothing  to  fear,  sir,”  said  Ravenswood, 
gravely  ; “ this  roof  retains  the  means  of  giving  protec- 
tion though  not  welcome.  Methinks,”  he  added,  “ it  is 
time  that  I should  know  who  they  are  that  have  thus  highly 
honoured  my  ruined  dwelling  V ’ 

The  young  lady  remained  silent  and  motionless,  and 
the  father,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  directly  ad- 
dressed, seemed  in  the  situation  of  a performer  who  has 
ventured  to  take  upon  himself  a part  which  he  finds  him- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


123 


self  unable  to  perform,  and  who  comes  to  a pause  when 
it  is  most  to  be  expected  that  he  should  speak.  While 
he  endeavoured  to  cover  his  embarrassment  with  the  ex- 
terior ceremonials  of  a well-bred  demeanour,  it  was  ob- 
vious, that  in  making  his  bow,  one  foot  shuffled  forward, 
as  if  to  advance — the  other  backward,  as  if  with  the  pur- 
pose of  escape— and  as  he  undid  the  cape  of  his  coat, 
and  raised  his  beaver  from  his  face,  his  fingers  fumbled 
as  if  the  one  had  been  linked  with  rusted  iron,  or  the 
other  had  weighed  equal  with  a stone  of  lead.  The  dark- 
ness of  the  sky  seemed  to  increase,  as  if  to  supply  the 
wTant  of  those  mufflings  which  he  had  laid  aside  with  such 
evident  reluctance.  The  impatience  of  Ravenswood  in- 
creased also  in  proportion  to  the  delay  of  the  stranger,  and 
he  appeared  to  struggle  under  agitation,  though  probably 
from  a very  different  cause.  He  laboured  to  restrain  his 
desire  to  speak,  while  the  stranger,  to  all  appearance,  was 
at  a loss  for  words  to  express  what  he  felt  it  necessary  to 
say.  At  length  Ravenswood’s  impatience  broke  the 
bounds  he  had  imposed  upon  it. 

“ I perceive,”  he  said,  “ that  Sir  William  Ashton  is  un- 
willing to  announce  himself  in  the  Castle  of  Wolfs  Crag.” 

“ I had  hoped  it  was  unnecessary,”  said  the  Lord 
Keeper,  relieved  from  his  silence,  as  a spectre  by  the 
voice  of  the  exorcist ; “ and  I am  obliged  to  you,  Master 
of  Ravenswood,  for  breaking  the  ice  at  once,  where  cir- 
cumstances— unhappy  circumstances  let  me  call  them— • 
rendered  self-introduction  peculiarly  awkward.” 

“ And  I am  not  then,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
gravely,  “ to  consider  the  honour  of  this  visit  as  purely 
accidental.” 

“ Let  us  distinguish  a little,”  said  the  Keeper,  assum- 
ing an  appearance  of  ease  which  perhaps  his  heart  was  a 
stranger  to  ; “ this  is  an  honour  which  I have  eagerly  de- 
sired for  some  time,  but  which  I miglu  never  have  obtain- 
ed, save  for  the  accident  of  the  storm.  My  daughter  and 
I are  alike  grateful  for  this  opportunity  of  thanking  the 
brave  man,  to  whom  she  owes  her  life  and  I mine.” 


124 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


The  hatred  which  divided  the  great  families  in  the  feu- 
dal times  had  lost  little  of  its  bitterness,  though  it  no  long- 
er expressed  itself  in  deeds  of  open  violence.  Not  the 
feelings  which  Ravenswood  had  begun  to  entertain  to- 
wards Lucy  Ashton,  not  the  hospitality  due  to  his  guests, 
were  able  entirely  to  subdue,  though  they  warmly  com- 
batted, the  deep  passions  which  arose  within  him,  at  be- 
holding his  father’s  foe  standing  in  the  hall  of  the  family 
of  which  he  had  in  a great  measure  accelerated  the  ruin. 
His  looks  glanced  from  the  father  to  the  daughter  with  an 
irresolution,  of  which  Sir  William  Ashton  did  not  think  it 
proper  to  await  the  conclusion.  He  had  now  disembar- 
rassed himself  of  his  riding-dress,  and  walking  up  to  his 
daughter,  he  undid  the  fastening  of  her  mask. 

“ Lucy,  my  love,”  he  said,  raising  her,  and  leading  her 
towards  Ravenswood,  “ lay  aside  your  mask,  and  let  us  ex- 
press our  gratitude  to  the  Master  openly  and  barefaced.” 

“ If  he  will  condescend  to  accept  it,”  was  all  that  Lucy 
uttered,  but  in  a tone  so  sweetly  modulated,  and  which 
seemed  to  imply  at  once  a feeling  and  a forgiving  of  the 
cold  reception  to  which  they  were  exposed,  that,  coming 
from  a creature  so  innocent  and  so  beautiful,  her  words 
cut  Ravenswood  to  the  very  heart  for  his  harshness.  He 
muttered  something  of  surprise,  something  of  confusion, 
and,  ending  with  a warm  and  eager  expression  of  his  hap- 
piness at  being  able  to  afford  her  shelter  under  his  roof, 
he  saluted  her,  as  the  ceremonial  of  the  time  enjoined 
upon  such  occasions.  Their  cheeks  had  touched  and 
were  withdrawn  from  each  other — Ravenswood  had  not 
quitted  the  hand  which  he  had  taken  in  kindly  courtesy — * 
a blush,  which  attached  more  consequence  by  far  than 
was  usual  to  such  ceremony,  still  mantled  on  Lucy  Ash- 
ton’s beautiful  cheek,  when  the  apartment  was  suddenly 
illuminated  by  a flash  of  lightning,  which  seemed  abso- 
lutely to  sw7allow  the  darkness  of  the  hall.  Every  object 
might  have  been  for  an  instant  seen  distinctly.  The  slight 
and  half-sinking  form  of  Lucy  Ashton,  the  well-propor- 
tioned and  stately  figure  of  Ravenswood,  his  dark  features, 
and  the  fiery,  yet  irresolute  expression  of  his  eyes, — the 


THE  BHIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  125 

old  arms  and  scutcheons  which  hung  on  the  walls  of  the 
apartment,  were  for  an  instant  distinctly  visible  to  the 
Keeper  by  a strong  red  brilliant  glare  of  light.  Its  dis- 
appearance was  almost  instantly  followed  by  a burst  of 
thunder,  for  the  storm-cloud  was  very  near  the  castle  ; 
and  the  peal  was  so  sudden  and  dreadful,  that  the  old 
tower  rocked  to  its  foundation,  and  every  inmate  conclud- 
ed it  was  falling  upon  them.  The  soot  which  had  not 
been  disturbed  for  centuries,  showered  down  the  huge 
tunnelled  chimneys — lime  and  dust  flew  in  clouds  from  the 
wall  ; and,  whether  the  lightning  had  actually  struck  the 
castle,  or  whether  through  the  violent  concussion  of  the 
air,  several  heavy  stones  were  hurled  from  the  mouldering 
battlements  into  the  roaring  sea  beneath.  It  might  seem 
as  if  the  ancient  founder  of  the  castle  were  bestriding  the 
thunder-storm,  and  proclaiming  his  displeasure  at  the  re- 
conciliation of  his  descendant  with  the  enemy  of  his  house. 

The  consternation  was  general,  and  it  required  the  ef- 
forts of  both  the  Lord  Keeper  and  Ravenswood  to  keep 
Lucy  from  fainting.  Thus  was  the  Master  a second  time 
engaged  in  the  most  delicate  and  dangerous  of  all  tasks, 
that  of  affording  support  and  assistance  to  a beautiful  and 
helpless  being,  whose  idea,  as  seen  before  in  a similar 
situation,  had  already  become  a favourite  of  his  imagina- 
tion, both  when  awake  and  when  slumbering.  If  the 
Genius  of  the  House  really  condemned  a union  betwixt 
the  Master  and  hi^  fair  guest,  the  means  by  which  he  ex- 
pressed his  sentiments  were  as  unhappily  chosen  as  if  he 
had  been  a mere  mortal.  The  train  of  little  attentions, 
absolutely  necessary  to  soothe  the  young  lady’s  mind,  and 
aid  her  in  composing  her  spirits,  necessarily  threw  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  into  such  an  intercourse  with  her 
father,  as  was  calculated,  for  the  moment  at  least,  to  break 
down  the  barrier  of  feudal  enmity  which  divided  them. 
To  express  himself  churlishly,  or  even  coldly,  towards  an 
old  man,  whose  daughter  (and  such  a daughter)  lay  before 
them,  overpowered  with  natural  terror — and  all  this  under 
his  own  roof — the  thing  was  impossible  ; and  by  the  time 
11*  VOL.  i. 


126 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


that  Lucy,  extending  a hand  to  each,  was  able  to  thank 
them  for  their  kindness,  the  Master  felt  that  his  sentiments 
of  hostility  towards  the  Lord  Keeper  were  by  no  means 
those  most  predominant  in  his  bosom. 

The  weather,  her  state  of  health,  the  absence  of  her 
attendants,  all  prevented  the  possibility  of  Lucy  Ashton 
renewing  her  journey  to  Bittlebrains-House,  which  was 
full  five  miles  distant  ; and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
could  not  but,  in  common  courtesy,  offer  the  shelter  of 
his  roof  for  the  rest  of  the  day  and  for  the  night.  But  a 
flush  of  less  soft  expression,  a look  much  more  habitual 
to  his  features,  resumed  predominance  when  he  mention- 
ed how  meanly  he  was  provided  for  the  entertainment  of 
his  guests. 

“ Do  not  mention  deficiencies,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper, 
eager  to  interrupt  him  and  prevent  his  resuming  an  alarm- 
ing topic  ; “ you  are  designed  for  the  continent,  and  your 
house  is  probably  for  the  present  unfurnished.  All  this 
we  understand  ; but  if  you  mention  inconvenience,  you 
will  oblige  us  to  seek  accommodations  in  thfc  hamlet.” 

As  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  was  about  to  reply,  the 
door  of  the  hall  opened,  and  Caleb  Balderstone  rushed  in. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Let  them  have  meat  enough,  woman — half  a hen  ; 

There  be  old  rotten  pilchards — put  them  off  too  ; 

5Tis  but  a little  new  anointing  of  them, 

And  a strong  onion,  that  confounds  the  savour. 

Love’s  Pilgrimage. 

The  thunder-bolt,  which  had  stunned  all  who  were 
within  hearing  of  it,  had  only  served  to  awaken  the  bold 
and  inventive  genius  of  the  flower  of  Majors-Domo.  Al- 
most before  the  clatter  had  ceased,  and  while  there  was 
yet  scarce  an  assurance  whether  the  castle  was  stand- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMEEMOOR, 


127 


ing  or  falling,  Caleb  exclaimed,  “ Heavens  be  praised  ! — 
this  comes  to  hand  like  the  boul  of  a pint  stoup.”  He 
then  barred  the  kitchen  door  in  the  face  of  the  Lord  Keep- 
er’s servant,  whom  he  perceived  returning  from  the  party 
at  the  gate,  and  muttering,  “ how  the  de’il  cam  he  in  9 — • 
but  de’il  may  care — Mysie,  what  are  ye  sitting  shaking 
and  greeting  in  the  chimney-nuik  for  9 Come  here — or 
stay  where  ye  are,  and  skirl  as  loud  as  ye  can — it’s  a’ 
ye’re  gude  for — I say,  ye  auld  deevil,  skirl — skirl — louder 
* — louder,  woman — gar  the  gentles  hear  ye  in  the  ha’ — I 
have  heard  ye  as  far  off  as  the  Bass  for  a less  matter. 
And  stay — down  wi’  that  crockery” — 

And  with  a sweeping  blow,  he  threw  down  from  a shelf 
some  articles  of  pewter  and  earthern  ware.  He  exalted 
his  voice  amid  the  clatter,  shouting  and  roaring  in  a man- 
ner which  changed  Mysie’s  hysterical  terrors  of  the  thun- 
der into  fears  that  her  old  fellow-servant  was  gone  distract- 
ed. “ He  has  dung  down  a’  the  bits  o’  pigs  too — the 
only  thing  we  had  left  to  haud  a soup  milk — and  he  has 
spilt  the  hatted  kitt  that  was  for  the  Master’s  dinner. 
Mercy  save  us,  the  auld  man’s  ga’en  clean  and  clear  wud 
wi’  the  thunner  !” 

“ Haud  your  tongue,  ye  b said  Caleb,  in  the 

impetuous  and  overbearing  triumph  of  successful  inven- 
tion, “a’s  provided  now — dinner  and  a’  thing — the  thun- 
ner’s  done  a’  in  a clap  of  a hand  !” 

“ Puir  man,  he’s  rnuckle  astray,”  said  Mysie,  looking 
at  him  with  a mixture  of  pity  and  alarm  ; “ I wish  he 
may  ever  come  hame  to  himsell  again.” 

“ Here,  ye  auld  doited  deevil,”  said  Caleb,  still  exult- 
ing in  his  extrication  from  a dilemma  which  seemed  in- 
surmountable ; “ keep  the  strange  man  out  of  the  kitchen 
— swear  the  thunner  came  down  the  chimney,  and  spoiled 
the  best  dinner  ye  ever  dressed — beef — bacon — kid — 
lark — leveret — wildfowl — venison,  and  whatnot.  Lay 
it  on  thick,  and  never  mind  expenses.  I’ll  awa’  up  to  the 
ha’ — make  a’  the  confusion  ye  can — but  be  sure  ye  keep 
out  the  strange  servant.” 


128 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


With  these  charges  to  his  ally,  Caleb  posted  up  to  the 
hall,  but  stopping  to  reconnoitre  through  an  aperture, 
which  time,  for  the  convenience  of  many  a domestic  in 
succession,  had  made  in  the  door,  and  perceiving  the  situ- 
ation of  Miss  Ashton,  he  had  prudence  enough  to  make  a 
pause,  both  to  avoid  adding  to  her  alarm,  and  in  order  to 
secure  attention  to  his  account  of  the  disastrous  effects  of 
the  thunder. 

But  when  he  perceived  that  the  lady  was  recovered, 
and  heard  the  conversation  turn  upon  the  accommodation 
and  refreshment  which  the  castle  afforded,  he  thought  it 
time  to  burst  into  the  room  in  the  manner  announced  in 
the  last  chapter. 

44  Willawins  ! — willawins  ! — such  a misfortune  to  befa’ 
the  House  of  Ravenswood,  and  I to  live  to  see  it  !” 

44  What  is  the  matter,  Caleb  9”  said  his  master,  some- 
what alarmed  in  his  turn  ; 44  has  any  part  of  the  castle 
fallen  9” 

44  Castle  fa’an  9 — na,  but  the  sute’s  fa’an,  and  the  thun- 
ner’s  come  right  down  the  kitchen-lumm,  and  the  things 
are  a’  lying  here  awa’,  there  awa’,  like  the  Laird  o’ 
Hotchpotch’s  lands — and  wi’  brave  guests  of  honour  and 
quality  to  entertain,” — a low  bow  here  to  Sir  William 
Ashton  and  his  daughter, — 44  and  naething  left  in  the  house 
fit  to  present  for  dinner — or  for  supper  either,  for  aught 
that  I can  see.” 

44  I verily  believe  you,  Caleb,”  said  Ravenswood  drily. 

Balderstone  here  turned  to  his  master  a half-upbraid- 
ing, half-imploring  countenance,  and  edged  towards  him 
as  he  repeated,  64  It  was  nae  great  matter  of  preparation  ; 
but  just  something  added  to  your  honour’s  ordinary  course 
of  fare — petty  couver , as  they  say  at  the  Louvre — three 
courses  and  the  fruit.” 

44  Keep  your  intolerable  nonsense  to  yourself,  you  old 
fool,”  said  Ravenswood,  mortified  at  his  officiousness,  yet 
not  knowing  how  to  contradict  him,  without  the  risk  of 
giving  rise  to  scenes  yet  more  ridiculous. 

Caleb  saw  his  advantage,  and  resolved  to  improve  it. 
But  first,  observing  that  the  Lord  Keeper’s  servant  enter- 


THE  BRIDE  OE  XAMMERMOOR. 


129 


ed  the  apartment,  and  spoke  apart  with  his  master,  he 
took  the  same  opportunity  to  whisper  a few  words  into 
Ravenswood’s  ear — “ Haud  your  tongue,  for  heaven’s 
sake,  sir, — if  it’s  my  pleasure  to  hazard  my  soul  in  telling 
lies  for  the  honour  of  the  family,  its  nae  business  o’  yours 
— and  if  ye  let  me  gang  on  quietly,  I’se  be  moderate  in 
my  banquet ; but  if  ye  contradict  me,  de’il  but  1 dress  ye 
a dinner  fit  for  a duke.” 

Ravenswood,  in  fact,  thought  it  would  be  best  to  let  his 
officious  butler  run  on,  who  proceeded  to  enumerate  upon 
his  fingers, — “ No  muckle  provision — might  hae  served 
four  persons  of  honour, — first  course,  capons  in  white 
broth — roast  kid — bacon  with  reverence — second  course, 
roasted  leveret — butter  crabs — a veal  florentine — third 
course,  black-cock — it’s  black  eneugh  now  wi’  the  sute — 
plumdamas — a tart — a flam — and  some  nonsense  sweet 
things,  and  comfits — and  that’s  a’,”  he  said,  seeing  the 
impatience  of  his  master  ; “ that’s  just  a’  was  o’t — for- 
bye  the  apples  and  pears.” 

Miss  Ashton  had  by  degrees  gathered  her  spirits,  so  far 
as  to  pay  some  attention  to  what  was  going  on  ; and  ob- 
serving the  restrained  impatience  of  Ravenswood,  con- 
trasted with  the  peculiar  determination  of  manner  with 
which  Caleb  detailed  his  imaginary  banquet,  the  whole 
struck  her  as  so  ridiculous,  that,  despite  every  effort  to 
the  contrary,  she  burst  into  a fit  of  incontrollable  laughter, 
in  which  she  was  joined  by  her  father,  though  with  more 
moderation,  and  finally  by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  him- 
self, though  conscious  that  the  jest  was  at  his  own  expense. 
Their  mirth — for  a scene  which  we  read  with  little  emotion 
often  appears  extremely  ludicrous  to  the  spectators — made 
the  old  vault  ring  again.  They  ceased — they  renewed — * 
they  ceased — they  renewed  again  their  shouts  of  laugh- 
ter ! Caleb,  in  the  meantime,  stood  his  ground  with  a 
grave,  angry,  and  scornful  dignity,  which  greatly  enhanced 
the  ridicule  of  the  scene,  and  the  mirth  of  the  spectators. 

At  length,  when  the  voices,  and  nearly  the  strength  of 
the  laughers,  were  exhausted,  he  exclaimed,  with  very 
little  ceremony,  “ The  de’il’s  in  the  gentles  ! they  break- 


130 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


fast  sae  lordly,  that  the  loss  of  the  best  dinner  ever  cook 
pat  fingers  to,  makes  them  as  merry  as  if  it  were  the  best 
jeest  in  a’  George  Buchanan.  If  there  was  as  little  in 
your  honours’  wames,  as  there  is  in  Caleb  Balderstone’s, 
less  cackling  wad  serve  ye  on  sic  agravaminous  subject.” 

Caleb’s  blunt  expression  of  resentment  again  awakened 
the  mirth  of  the  company,  which,  by  the  way,  he  regard- 
ed not  only  as  an  aggression  upon  the  dignity  of  the  fam- 
ily, but  a special  contempt  of  the  eloquence  with  which 
he  himself  had  summed  up  the  extent  of  their  supposed 
losses  ; — “ a description  of  a dinner,”  as  he  said  after- 
wards to  Mysie,  “ that  wad  hae  made  a fu’  man  hungry, 
and  them  to  sit  there  laughing  at  it.” 

“ But,”  said  Miss  Ashton,  composing  her  countenance 
as  well  as  she  could,  “ are  all  these  delicacies  so  totally 
destroyed,  that  no  scrap  can  be  collected  V9 

“ Collected,  my  leddy  ! what  wad  ye  collect  out  of  the 
sute  and  the  asse  9 Ye  may  gang  down  yoursell,  and  look 
into  our  kitchen— the  cookmaid  in  the  trembling  exies — 
the  gude  vivers  lying  a’  about — beef — capons,  and  white 
broth — florentine  and  flams — bacon  wi’  reverence,  and  a’ 
the  sweet  confections  and  whim-wharns  ; ye’ll  see  them 
a’,  my  leddy — that  is,”  said  he,  correcting  himself,  “ ye’ll 
no  see  ony  o’  them  now,  for  the  cook  has  soopit  them 
up,  as  was  weel  her  part ; but  ye’ll  see  the  white  broth 
where  it  was  spilt.  I pat  my  fingers  in  it,  and  it  tastes  as 
like  sour-milk  as  ony  thing  else  ; if  that  isna  the  effect  of 
thunner,  I kenna  what  is. — This  gentleman  here  couldna 
but  hear  the  clash  of  our  haill  dishes,  china  and  silver 
thegither.” 

The  Lord  Keeper’s  domestic,  though  a statesman’s  at- 
tendant, and  of  course  trained  to  command  his  counte- 
nance upon  all  occasions,  was  somewhat  discomposed  by 
this  appeal,  to  which  he  only  answered  by  a bow. 

“ I think,  Mr.  Butler,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  who  be- 
gan to  be  afraid  lest  the  prolongation  of  this  scene  should 
at  length  displease  Ravenswood, — “ I think,  that  were 
you  to  retire  with  my  servant  Lockhard — he  has  travelled, 
and  is  quite  accustomed  to  accidents  and  contingencies  of 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


131 


of  every  kind,  and  I hope  betwixt  you,  you  may  find  out 
some  mode  of  supply  at  this  emergency.” 

“ His  honour  kens,” — said  Caleb,  who,  however  hope- 
less of  himself  of  accomplishing  what  was  desirable,  would, 
like  the  high-spirited  elephant,  rather  have  died  in  the 
effort,  than  brooked  the  aid  of  a brother  in  commission, 
— “ his  honour  kens  weel  1 need  nae  counsellor,  when 
the  honour  of  the  house  is  concerned.” 

“ 1 should  be  unjust  if  I denied  it,  Caleb,”  said  his 
master  ; “ but  your  art  lies  chiefly  in  making  apologies, 
upon  which  we  can  no  more  dine,  than  upon  the  bill  of 
fare  of  our  thunder-blasted  dinner.  Now,  possibly,  Mr. 
Lockhard’s  talent  may  consist  in  finding  some  substitute 
for  that,  which  certainly  is  not,  and  has  in  all  probability 
never  been.” 

“ Your  honour  is  pleased  to  be  facetious,”  said  Caleb, 
“ but  I am  sure,  that  for  the  warst,  for  a walk  as  far  as 
Wolfs-hope,  I could  dine  forty  men, — mo  that  the  folk 
there  deserve  your  honour’s  custom.  They  hae  been  ill- 
advised  in  the  matter  of  the  duty-eggs  and  butter,  1 winna 
deny  that.” 

“ Do  go  consult  together,”  said  the  Master,  “ go  down 
to  the  village,  and  do  the  best  you  can.  We  must  not  let 
our  guests  remain  without  refreshment,  to  save  the  honour 
of  a ruined  family.  And  here,  Caleb — take  my  purse  ; 
I believe  that  will  prove  your  best  ally.” 

“ Purse  ! purse,  indeed  !”  quoth  Caleb,  indignantly 
flinging  out  of  the  room, — “ what  suld  I do  wi’  your  hon- 
our’s purse,  on  your  ain  grund  9 1 trust  we  are  no  to  pay 
for  our  ain  V9 

The  servants  left  the  hall ; and  the  door  was  no  sooner 
shut,  than  the  Lord  Keeper  began  to  apologize  for  the 
rudeness  of  his  mirth  ; and  Lucy  to  hope  she  had  given 
no  pain  or  offence  to  the  kind-hearted  faithful  old  man. 

“ Caleb  and  I must  both  learn,  madam,  to  undergo  with 
good  humour,  or  at  least  with  patience,  the  ridicule  which 
every  where  attaches  itself  to  poverty.” 

“ You  do  yourself  injustice,  Master  of  Ravenswood,  on 
my  word  of  honour,”  answered  his  elder  guest.  “ J be- 


132 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


lieve  I know  more  of  your  affairs  than  you  do  yourself 
and  I hope  to  show  you,  that  I am  interested  in  them  ; 
and  that — in  short,  that  your  prospects  are  better  than  you 
apprehend.  In  the  meantime,  I can  conceive  nothing  so 
respectable,  as  the  spirit  which  rises  above  misfortune,  and 
prefers  honourable  privations  to  debt  or  dependence.55 

Whether  from  fear  of  offending  the  delicacy,  or  awaken- 
ing the  pride  of  the  Master,  the  Lord  Keeper  made  these 
allusions  with  an  appearance  of  fearful  and  hesitating  re- 
serve, and  seemed  to  be  afraid  that  he  was  intruding  too 
far,  in  venturing  to  touch,  however  lightly,  upon  such  a 
topic,  even  when  the  Master  had  led  to  it.  In  short,  he 
appeared  at  once  pushed  on  by  his  desire  of  appearing 
friendly,  and  held  back  by  the  fear  of  intrusion.  It  was 
no  wonder  that  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  little  acquaint- 
ed as  he  then  was  with  life,  should  have  given  this  con- 
summate courtier  credit  for  more  sincerity  than  was  prob- 
ably to  be  found  in  a score  of  his  cast.  He  answered, 
however,  with  reserve,  that  he  was  indebted  to  all  who 
might  think  well  of  him  ; and,  apologizing  to  his  guests, 
he  left  the  hall,  in  order  to  make  such  arrangements  for 
their  entertainment  as  circumstances  admitted. 

Upon  consulting  with  old  Mysie,  the  /accommodations 
for  the  night  were  easily  completed,  as  indeed  they  ad- 
mitted of  little  choice.  The  Master  surrendered  his  apart- 
ment for  the  use  of  Miss  Ashton,  and  Mysie,  (once  a 
person  of  consequence)  dressed  in  a black  satin  gown 
which  had  belonged  of  yore  to  the  Master’s  grandmother, 
and  had  figured  in  the  court-balls  of  Henrietta  Maria, 
went  to  attend  her  as  lady’s  maid.  He  next  inquired 
after  Rucklaw,  and  understanding  he  was  at  the  Change- 
house  with  the  huntsmen  and  some  companions,  he  desir- 
ed Caleb  to  call  there  and  acquaint  him  how  he  was  cir- 
cumstanced at  Wolfs  Crag — to  intimate  to  him  it  would 
be  most  convenient  if  he  could  find  a bed  in  the  hamlet, 
as  the  elder  guest  must  necessarily  be  quartered  in  the 
secret  chamber,  the  only  spare  bed-room  which  could  be 
made  fit  to  receive  him.  The  Master  saw  no  hardship  in 
passing  the  night  by  the  hall-fire,  wrapt  in  his  campaign- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMEHMOOR. 


133 


cloak  ; and  to  Scottish  domestics  of  the  day,  even  of  the 
highest  rank,  nay,  to  young  men  of  family  or  fashion,  on 
any  pinch,  clean  straw,  ora  dry  hay-loft,  was  always  held 
good  night-quarters. 

For  other  matters,  Lockhard  had  his  master’s  orders  to 
bring  some  venison  from  the  inn,  and  Caleb  was  to  trust 
to  his  wits  for  the  honour  of  the  family.  The  Master, 
indeed,  a second  time  held  out  his  purse  ; but,  as  it  was 
in  sight  of  the  strange  servant,  the  butler  thought  himself 
obliged  to  decline  what  his  fingers  itched  to  clutch. 
“ Couldna  he  hae  slippit  it  gently  into  my  hand  V9  said 
Caleb — “ but  his  honour  will  never  learn  how  to  bear 
himsell  in  siccan  cases.” 

Mysie,  in  the  meantime,  according  to  a uniform  custom 
in  remote  places  in  Scotland,  offered  the  strangers  the 
produce  of  her  little  dairy,  “ while  better  meat  was  get- 
ting ready.”  And  accoiyiing  to  another  custom,  not  yet 
wholly  in  desuetude,  as  the  storm  was  now  drifting  off  to 
leeward,  the  Master  carried  the  Keeper  to  the  top  of  his 
highest  tower  to  admire  a wide  and  waste  extent  of  view, 
and  to  “ weary  for  his  dinner.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 

u Now?  dame/’  quoth  he, 11  Je  vous  dis  sans  doute, 

Had  I nought  of  a capon  but  the  liver, 

And  of  your  white  bread  nought  but  a shiver, 

And  after  that  a roasted  pigge’s  head, 

(But  I ne  wold  for  me  no  beast  were  dead) 

Then  had  I with  you  homely  sufferaunce.” 

Chaucer , Summer’s  Tale . 

It  was  not  without  some  secret  misgivings  that  Caleb  set 
out  upon  his  exploratory  expedition.  In  fact,  it  was  at- 
tended with  a treble  difficulty.  He  dared  not  tell  his 
12  VOL.  I. 


134 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


master  the  offence  which  he  had  that  morning  given  to 
Bucklaw,  (just  for  the  honour  of  the  family,) — he  dared 
not  acknowledge  he  had  been  too  hasty  in  refusing  the 
purse — and,  thirdly,  he  was  somewhat  apprehensive  of 
unpleasant  consequences  upon  his  meeting  Hayston  under 
the  impression  of  an  affront,  and  probably  by  this  time  un- 
der the  influence  also  of  no  small  quantity  of  brandy. 

Caleb,  to  do  him  justice,  was  as  bold  as  any  lion  where 
the  honour  of  the  family  of  Ravenswood  was  concerned  ; 
but  his  was  that  considerate  valour  which  does  not  delight 
in  unnecessary  risks.  This,  however,  was  a secondary 
consideration  ; the  main  point  was  to  veil  the  indigence 
of  the  house-keeping  at  the  castle,  and  to  make  good  his 
vaunt  of  the  cheer  which  his  resources  could  procure, 
without  Lockhard’s  assistance,  and  without  supplies  from 
his  master.  This  was  as  prime  a point  of  honour  with 
him,  as  with  the  generous  elephant,  with  whom  we  have 
already  compared  him,  who,  being  over-tasked,  broke  his 
skull  through  the  desperate  exertions  which  he  made  to 
discharge  his  duty,  when  he  perceived  they  were  bringing 
up  another  to  his  assistance. 

The  village  which  they  now  approached  had  frequently 
afforded  the  distressed  butler  resources  upon  similar 
emergencies  ; but  his  relations  with  it  had  been  of  late 
much  altered. 

It  was  a little  hamlet,  which  straggled  along  the  side  of 
a creek  formed  by  the  discharge  of  a small  brook  into 
the  sea,  and  was  hidden  from  the  castle,  to  which  it  had 
been  in  former  times  an  appendage,  by  the  intervention  of 
the  shoulder  of  a hill  forming  a projecting  headland.  It 
was  called  Wolf s-hope,  (i.  e.  Wolfs  Haven)  and  the  few 
inhabitants  gained  a precarious  subsistence  by  manning 
two  or  three  fishing  boats  in  the  herring  season,  and  smug- 
gling gin  and  brandy  during  the  winter  months.  They 
paid  a kind  of  hereditary  respect  to  the  Lords  of  Ravens- 
wood ; but,  in  the  difficulties  of  the  family,  most  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Wolf  s-hope  had  contrived  to  get  feu-rights 
to  their  little  possessions,  their  huts,  kail-yards,  and  rights 
of  commonly,  so  that  they  were  emancipated  from  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


135 


chains  of  feudal  dependence,  and  free  from  the  various 
exactions  with  which,  under  every  possible  pretext,  or 
without  pretext  at  all,  the  Scottish  landlords  of  the  period, 
themselves  in  great  poverty,  were  wont  to  harass  their  still 
poorer  tenants  at  will.  They  might  be,  on  the  whole, 
termed  independent,  a circumstance  peculiarly  galling  to 
Caleb,  who  had  been  wont  to  exercise  over  them  the  same 
sweeping  authority  in  levying  contributions  that  was  ex- 
ercised in  former  times  in  England,  when  ‘ the  royal  pur- 
veyors, sallying  forth  from  under  the  Gothic  portcullis  to 
purchase  provisions  with  power  and  prerogative,  instead 
of  money,  brought  home  the  plunder  of  an  hundred  mar- 
kets, and  all  that  could  be  seized  from  a flying  and  hiding 
country,  and  deposited  their  spoils  in  an  hundred  caverns.5* 

Caleb  loved  the  memory  and  resented  the  downfall  of 
that  authority,  which  mimicked,  on  a petty  scale,  the  grand 
contributions  exacted  by  the  feudal  sovereigns.  And  as 
he  fondly  flattered  himself  that  the  awful  rule  and  right 
supremacy  which  assigned  to  the  Barons  of  Ravenswood 
the  first  and  most  effective  interest  in  all  productions  of 
nature  within  five  miles  of  their  castle,  only  slumbered 
and  was  not  departed  for  ever,  he  used  every  now  and 
then  to  give  the  recollection  of  the  inhabitants  a little  jog 
by  some  petty  exaction.  These  were  at  first  submitted 
to,  with  more  or  less  readiness,  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
hamlet  ; for  they  had  been  so  long  used  to  consider  the 
wants  of  the  Baron  and  his  family  as  having  a title  to  be 
preferred  to  their  own,  that  their  actual  independence  did 
not  convey  to  them  an  immediate  sense  of  freedom.  They 
resembled  a man  that  has  been  long  fettered,  who,  even 
at  liberty,  feels,  in  imagination,  the  grasp  of  the  hand- 
cuffs still  binding  his  wrists.  But  the  exercise  of  freedom 
is  quickly  followed  with  the  natural  consciousness  of  its 
immunities,  as  the  enlarged  prisoner,  by  the  free  use  of 
his  limbs,  soon  dispels  the  cramped  feeling  they  had  ac- 
quired when  bound. 

The  inhabitants  of  Wolfis-hope  began  to  grumble,  to 


Burke’s  Speech  on  Economical  Reform. — Works,  vol.  iii.  p.  250, 


136  TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 

resist,  and  at  length  positively  to  refuse  compliance  with 
the  exactions  of  Caleb  Balderstone.  It  was  in  vain  he 
reminded  them  that  when  the  eleventh  Lord  Ravenswood, 
called  the  Skipper,  from  his  delight  in  naval  matters,  had 
encouraged  the  trade  of  their  port  by  building  the  pier, 
(a  bulwark  of  stones  rudely  piled  together,)  which  pro- 
tected the  fishing-boats  from  the  weather,  it  had  been  mat- 
ter of  understanding,  that  he  was  to  have  the  first  stone  of 
butter  after  the  calving  of  every  cow  within  the  barony, 
and  the  first  egg,  thence  called  the  Monday’s  egg,  laid  by 
every  hen  on  every  Monday  in  the  year. 

The  feuars  heard  and  scratched  their  heads,  coughed, 
sneezed,  and  being  pressed  for  answer,  rejoined  with  one 
voice,.  “ they  could  not  say  — the  universal  refugeof  a 

Scottish  peasant,  when  pressed  to  admit  a claim  which  his 
conscience  owns,  and  his  interest  inclines  him  to  deny. 

Caleb,  however,  furnished  the  notables  of  Wolf  s-hope 
with  a note  of  the  requisition  of  butter  and  eggs,  which  he 
claimed  as  arrears  of  the  aforesaid  subsidy,  or  kindly  aid, 
payable  as  abovementioned  ; and  having  intimated  that  he 
would  not  be  averse  to  compound  the  same  for  goods  or 
money,  if  it  was  inconvenient  to  them  to  pay  in  kind,  left 
them,  as  he  hoped,  to  debate  the  mode  of  assessing  them- 
selves for  that  purpose.  On  the  contrary,  they  met  with 
a determined  purpose  of  resisting  the  exaction,  and  were 
only  undecided  as  to  the  mode  of  grounding  their  oppo- 
sition, when  the  cooper,  a very  important  person  on  a 
fishing  station,  and  one  of  the  Conscript  Fathers  of  the 
village,  observed,  “ That  their  hens  had  cackled  mony  a 
day  for  the  Lords  of  Ravenswood,  and  it  was  time  they 
suld  cackle  for  those  that  gave  them  roost  and  barley.” 
A unanimous  grin  intimated  the  assent  of  the  assembly. 
“ And,”  continued  the  orator,  “ if  it’s  your  wull,  I’ll  just 
tak  a step  as  far  as  Dunse  for  Davie  Dingwall  the  writer, 
that’s  come  frae  the  north  to  settle  amang  us,  and  he’ll  pit 
this  job  to  rights,  I’se  warrant  him.” 

A day  was  accordingly  fixed  for  holding  a grand  palaver 
at  Wolfs-hope  on  the  subject  of  Caleb’s  requisitions,  and 
he  was  invited  to  attend  at  the  hamlet  for  that  purpose. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  JLAMMERMOOR. 


137 


He  went  with  open  hands  and  empty  stomach,  trusting 
to  fill  the  one  on  his  master’s  account,  and  the  other  on 
his  own  score,  at  the  expense  of  the  feuars  of  Wolfs-hope. 
But,  death  to  his  hopes  ! as  he  entered  the  eastern  end 
of  the  straggling  village,  the  awful  form  of  Davie  Ding- 
wall, a sly,  dry,  hard-fisted,  shrewd  country  attorney,  who 
had  already  acted  against  the  family  of  Ravenswood,  and 
was  a principal  agent  of  Sir  William  Ashton,  trotted  in  at 
the  western  extremity,  bestriding  a leathern  portmanteau 
stuffed  with  the  feu-charters  of  the  hamlet,  and  hoping  he 
had  not  kept  Mr.  Balderstone  waiting,  “ as  he  was  in- 
structed and  fully  empowered  to  pay  or  receive,  compound 
or  compensate,  and,  in  fine,  to  age  as  accords,  respecting 
all  mutual  and  unsettled  claims  whatsoever,  belonging  or 
competent  to  the  Honourable  Edgar  Ravenswood,  com- 
monly called  the  Master  of  Ravenswood” — 

“ The  Right  Honourable  Edgar  Lord  Ravenswood ,” 
said  Caleb  with  great  emphasis  ; for,  though  conscious 
he  had  little  chance  of  advantage  in  the  conflict  to  ensue, 
he  was  resolved  not  to  sacrifice  one  jot  of  honour. 

“ Lord  Ravenswood  then,”  said  the  man  of  business; 
u we  shall  not  quarrel  with  you  about  titles  of  courtesy — - 
commonly  called  Lord  Ravenswood,  or  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood, heritable  proprietor  of  the  lands  and  barony  of 
Wolfs  Crag,  on  the  one  part,  and  to  John  Whitefish  and 
others,  feuars  in  the  town  of  Wolfs-hope,  within  the 
barony  aforesaid,  on  the  other  part.” 

Caleb  was  conscious,  from  sad  experience,  that  he 
would  wage  a very  different  strife  with  this  mercenary 
champion,  than  with  the  individual  feuars  themselves, 
upon  whose  old  recollections,  predilections,  and  habits  of 
thinking,  he  might  have  wrought  by  an  hundred  indirect 
arguments,  to  which  their  deputed  representative  was  to- 
tally insensible.  The  issue  of  the  debate  proved  the 
reality  of  his  apprehensions.  It  was  in  vain  he  strained 
his  eloquence  and  ingenuity,  and  collected  into  one  mass 
all  arguments  arising  from  antique  custom  and  hereditary 
respect,  from  the  good  deeds  done  by  the  Lord  of  Ra- 
12*  VOL.  I. 


138 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


venswood  to  the  community  of  WolPs-hope  in  former 
days,  and  from  what  might  be  expected  from  them  in  fu- 
ture. The  Writer  stuck  to  the  contents  of  his  feu-char- 
ters— he  could  not  see  it — ’twas  not  in  the  bond.  And 
when  Caleb,  determined  to  try  what  a little  spirit  would 
do,  deprecated  the  consequences  of  Lord  Ravenswood 
withdrawing  his  protection  from  the  burgh,  and  even 
hinted  at  his  using  active  measures  of  resentment,  the 
man  of  law  sneered  in  his  face. 

“ His  clients,”  he  said,  “ had  determined  to  do  the 
best  they  could  for  their  own  town,  and  he  thought  Lord 
Ravenswood,  since  he  was  a lord,  might  have  enough  to 
do  to  look  after  his  own  castle.  As  to  any  threats  of 
stoutrief  oppression,  by  rule  of  thumb,  or  via  facti , as 
the  law  termed  it,  he  would  have  Mr.  Balderstone  recol- 
lect, that  new  times  were  not  as  old  times — that  they  lived 
on  the  south  of  the  Forth,  and  far  from  the  Highlands — 
that  his  clients  thought  they  were  able  to  protect  them- 
selves ; but  should  they  find  themselves  mistaken,  they 
would  apply  to  the  government  for  the  protection  of  a 
corporal  and  four  red-coats,  who,”  said  Mr.  Dingwall, 
“ would  be  perfectly  able  to  secure  them  against  Lord 
Ravenswood,  and  all  that  he  or  his  followers  could  do  by 
the  strong  hand.” 

If  Caleb  could  have  concentrated  all  the  lightnings  of 
aristocracy  in  his  eye,  to  have  struck  dead  this  contemner 
of  allegiance  and  privilege,  he  would  have  launched  them 
at  his  head,  without  respect  to  the  consequences.  As  it 
was,  he  was  compelled  to  turn  his  course  backward  to 
the  castle  ; and  there  he  remained  for  full  half  a day  in- 
visible and  inaccessible  even  to  Mysie,  sequestered  in  his 
own  peculiar  dungeon,  where  he  sat  burnishing  a single 
pewter  plate,  and  whistling  Maggy  Lauder  six  hours 
without  intermission. 

The  issue  of  this  unfortunate  requisition  had  shut 
against  Caleb  all  resources  which  could  be  derived  from 
WolPs-hope  and  its  purlieus,  the  El  Dorado,  or  Peru, 
from  which,  in  all  former  cases  of  exigence,  he  had  been 
able  to  extract  some  assistance.  He  had,  indeed,  in  a 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


139 


manner  vowed  that  the  de’il  should  have  him,  if  ever  he 
put  the  print  of  his  foot  within  its  causeway  again.  He 
had  hitherto  kept  his  word  ; and,  strange  to  tell,  this  se- 
cession had,  as  he  intended,  in  some  degree  the  effect  of 
a punishment  upon  the  refractory  feuars.  Mr.  Balder- 
stone  had  been  a person  in  their  eyes  connected  with  a 
superior  order  of  beings,  whose  presence  used  to  grace 
their  little  festivities,  whose  advice  they  found  useful  on 
many  occasions,  and  whose  communications  gave  a sort 
of  credit  to  their  village.  The  place,  they  acknowledg- 
ed u didna  look  as  it  used  to  do,  and  should  do,  since 
Mr.  Caleb  keepit  the  castle  sae  closely — but  doubtless* 
touching  the  eggs  and  butter,  it  was  a most  unreasonable 
demand,  as  Mr.  Dingwall  had  justly  made  manifest.5’ 

Thus  stood  matters  betwixt  the  parties,  when  the  old 
butler,  though  it  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  him,  found 
himself  obliged  either  to  acknowledge  before  a strange 
man  of  quality,  and,  what  was  much  wrorse,  before  that 
stranger’s  servant,  the  total  inability  of  Wolf’s  Crag  to 
produce  a dinner,  or  he  must  trust  to  the  compassion  of 
the  feuars  of  Wolf’s-hope.  It  was  a dreadful  degrada- 
tion, but  necessity  was  equally  imperious  and  lawless. 
With  these  feelings  he  entered  the  street  of  the  village. 

Willing  to  shake  himself  from  his  companion  as  soon 
as  possible,  he  directed  Mr.  Lockhard  to  Luckie  Sma’~ 
trash’s  change-house,  where  a din,  proceeding  from  the 
revels  of  Bucklaw,  Craigengelt,  and  their  party,  sounded 
half-way  down  the  street,  while  the  red  glare  from  the 
window  overpowered  the  grey  twilight  which  was  now 
settling  down,  and  glimmered  against  a parcel  of  old 
tubs,  kegs,  and  barrels,  piled  up  in  the  cooper’s  yard,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  way. 

“ If  you,  Mr.  Lockhard,”  said  the  old  butler  to  his 
companion,  “ will  be  pleased  to  step  to  the  change-house, 
where  that  light  comes  from,  and  where,  as  I judge,  they 
are  now  singing  6 Cauld  Kail  in  Aberdeen,’  ye  may  do 
your  master’s  errand  about  the  venison,  and  I will  do 
mine  about  Bucklaw’s  bed,  as  I return  frae  getting  the 
rest  of  the  vivers. — It’s  no  that  the  venison  is  actually 


140 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


needfu’,”  he  added,  detaining  his  colleague  by  the  button, 
“ to  make  up  the  dinner  ; but,  as  a compliment  to  the 
hunters,  ye  ken — and,  Mr.  Lockhard — if  they  offer  ye  a 
drink  o’  yill,  or  a cup  o’  wine,  or  a glass  o’  brandy,  ye’ll 
be  a wise  man  to  take  it,  in  case  the  thunner  should  hae 
soured  ours  at  the  castle, — whilk  is  ower  muckle  to  be 
dreaded.” 

He  then  permitted  Lockhard  to  depart  ; and  with  foot 
heavy  as  lead,  and  yet  far  lighter  than  his  heart,  stepped 
on  through  the  unequal  street  of  the  straggling  village, 
meditating  on  whom  he  ought  to  make  his  first  attack. 
It  was  necessary  he  should  find  some  one,  with  whom 
old  acknowledged  greatness  should  weigh  more  than  recent 
independence,  and  to  whom  his  application  might  appear 
an  act  of  high  dignity,  relenting  at  once  and  soothing. 
But  he  could  not  recollect  an  inhabitant  of  a mind  so 
constructed.  66  Oui  kail  is  like  to  be  cauld  eneugh  too,” 
he  reflected,  as  the  chorus  of  Cauld  Kail  in  Aberdeen 
again  reached  his  ears.  The  minister — he  had  got  his 
presentation  from  the  late  lord,  but  they  had  quarrelled 
about  tiends  ; — the  brewster’s  wife — she  had  trusted  long 
and  the  bill  was  aye  scored  up — and  unless  the  dignity  of 
the  family  should  actually  require  it,  it  would  be  a sin  to 
distress  a .widow  woman.  None  was  so  able — but,  on 
the  other  hand,  none  was  likely  to  be  less  willing  to  stand 
his  friend  upon  the  present  occasion,  than  Cibbie  Girder, 
the  man  of  tubs  and  barrels  already  mentioned,  who  had 
headed  the  insurrection  in  the  matter  of  the  egg  and  but- 
ter subsidy. — “ But  a’  comes  o’  taking  folk  on  the  right 
side,  I trow,”  quoth  Caleb  to  himself  ; “ and  I had  ance 
the  ill  hap  to  say  he  was  but  a Johnnie  Newcome  in  our 
town,  and  the  carle  bore  the  family  an  ill-will  ever  since. 
But  he  married  a bonnie  young  quean,  Jean  Lightbody, 
auld  Lightbody’s  daughter,  him  that  was  in  the  steading 
of  Loup-the-dyke, — that' was  married  himsell  to  Marion, 
that  was  about  my  lady  in  the  family  forty  years  syne — I 
hae  had  mony  a day’s  daffing  wi’  Jean’s  mither,  and  they 
say  she  bides  on  wi’  them — the  carle  has  Jacobuses  and 
Georgiuses  baith,  an  ane  could  get  at  them — and  sure  I 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


141 


am,  it’s  doing  him  an  honour  him  or  his  never  deserved 
at  our  hand,  the  ungracious  sumph  ; and  if  he  loses  by 
us  a5  thegither,  he  is  e’en  cheap  o’t,  he  can  spare  it 
brawly.” 

Shaking  off  irresolution,  therefore,  and  turning  at  once 
upon  his  heel,  Caleb  walked  hastily  back  to  the  cooper’s 
house,  lifted  the  latch  without  ceremony,  and,  in  a mo- 
ment, found  himself  behind  the  kalian,  or  partition,  from 
which  position  he  could,  himself  unseen,  reconnoitre  the 
interior  of  the  but , or  kitchen  apartment,  of  the  mansion. 

Reverse 'of  the  sad  menage  at  the  Castle  of  Wolfs 
Crag,  a bickering  fire  roared  up  the  cooper’s  chimney. 
His  wife  on  the  one  side,  in  her  pearlings  and  pudding- 
sleeves,  put  the  last  finishing  touch  to  her  holiday’s  ap- 
parel, while  she  contemplated  a very  handsome  and  good- 
humoured  face  in  a broken  mirror,  raised  upon  the  hink 
(the  shelves  on  which  the  plates  are  disposed,)  for  her 
special  accommodation.  Her  mother,  old  Luckie  Loup- 
the-dyke,  “ a canty  carliue”  as  was  within  twenty  miles 
of  her,  according  to  the  unanimous  report  of  the  cum- 
mers, or  gossips,  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  full  glory  of  a 
grogram  gown,  laramer  beads,  and  a clean  cockernony, 
whiffing  a snug  pipe  of  tobacco,  and  superintending  the 
affairs  of  the  kitchen.  For — sight  more  interesting  to 

the  anxious  heart  and  craving  entrails  of  the  desponding 
seneschal,  than  either  buxom  dame  or  canty  cummer,— 
there  bubbled  on  the  aforesaid  bickering  fire,  a huge  pot, 
or  rather  cauldron,  steaming  with  beef  and  brewis  ; while 
before  it  revolved  two  spits,  turned  each  by  one  of  the 
cooper’s  apprentices,  seated  in  the  opposite  corners  of 
the  chimney  ; the  one  loaded  with  a quarter  of  mutton, 
while  the  other  was  graced  with  a fat  goose  and  a brace  of 
wild  ducks.  The  sight  and  scent  of  such  a land  of  plenty 
almost  wholly  overcame  the  drooping  spirits  of  Caleb. 
He  turned,  for  a moment’s  space,  to  reconnoitre  the  ben, 
or  parlour  end  of  the  house,  and  there  saw  a sight  scarce 
less  affecting  to  his  feelings  ; — a large  round  table,  cov- 
ered for  ten  or  twelve  persons,  decored  (according  to  his 
own  favourite  term,)  with  napery  as  white  as  snow  ; 


142 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


grand  flagons  of  pewter,  intermixed  with  one  or  two  sil- 
ver cups,  containing*  as  was  probable,  something  worthy 
the  brilliancy  of  their  outward  appearance  ; clean  trench- 
ers, cutty  spoons,  knives  and  forks,  sharp,  burnished,  and 
prompt  for  action,  which  lay  all  displayed  as  for  an  espe- 
cial festival. 

“ The  de’il’s  in  the  peddling  tub-coopering  carle,” 
thought  Caleb,  in  all  the  envy  of  astonishment  ; “ it’s  a 
shame  to  see  the  like  o’  them  gusting  their  gabs  at  sic  a 
rate.  But  if  some  o’  that  good  cheer  does  not  find  its 
way  to  Wolfs  Crag  this  night,  my  name  is  not  Caleb 
Balderstone.” 

So  resolving,  he  entered  the  apartment,  and,  in  all 
courteous  greeting,  saluted  both  the  mother  and  the 
daughter.  Wolfs  Crag  was  the  court  of  the  barony, 
Caleb  prime  minister  at  Wolfs  crag  ; and  it  has  ever 
been  remarked,  that  though  the  masculine  subject  who 
pays  the  taxes,  sometimes  growls  at  the  courtiers  by 
whom  they  are  imposed,  the  said  courtiers  continue, 
nevertheless,  welcome  to  the  fair  sex,  to  whom  they  fur- 
nish the  newest  small-talk  and  the  earliest  fashions.  Both 
the  dames  wrere,  therefore,  at  once  about  old  Caleb’s  neck, 
setting  up  their  throats  together  by  way  of  welcome. 

“ Aye,  sirs,  Mr.  Balderstone,  and  is  this  you  9 — A 
sight  of  you  is  gude  for  sair  een — sit  down — sit  down — 
the  gudeman  will  be  blithe  to  see  you — ye  nar  saw  him 
sae  cadgy  in  your  life  ; but  we  are  to  christen  our  bit 
wean  the  night,  as  ye  will  hae  heard,  and  doubtless  ye 
will  stay  and  see  the  ordinance. — We  hae  killed  a wether, 
and  ane  o’  our  lads  has  been  out  wi’  his  gun  at  the  moss 
-—ye  used  to  like  wild-fowl.” 

“ Na — na — gudewife,”  said  Caleb,  “ I just  keekit  in 
to  wish  ye  joy,  and  I wad  be  glad  to  hae  spoken  wi’  the 
gudeman,  but” moving,  as  if  to  go  away. 

“ The  ne’er  a fit  ye’s  gang,”  said  the  elder  dame, 
laughing  and  holding  him  fast,  with  a freedom  which  be- 
longed to  their  old  acquaintance  ; “ wha  kens  what  ill  it 
may  bring  to  the  bairn,  if  ye  owerlook  it  in  that  gate  ?” 

“ But  I’m  in  a preceese  hurry,  gudewife,”  said  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


143 


butler,  suffering  himself  to  be  dragged  to  a seat  without 
much  resistance  ; “ and  as  to  eating” — for  he  observed 
the  mistress  of  the  dwelling  bustling  about  to  place  a 
trencher  for  him — “ as  for  eating — lack-a-day,  we  are 
just  killed  up  yonder  wi’  eating  frae  morning  to  night — 
it’s  shamefu’  epicurism  ; but  that’s  what  we  hae  gotten 
frae  the  English  pock-puddings.” 

“ Hout — never  mind  the  English  pock-puddings,” 
said  Luckie  Lightbody  ; 44  try  our  puddings,  Mr.  Bald- 
erstone — there  is  black  pudding  and  white-hass — try 
whilk  ye  like  best.” 

44  Baith  gude — baith  excellent — canna  be  better  ; but 
the  very  smell  is  eneugh  for  me  that  hae  dined  sae  lately 
(the  faithful  wretch  had  fasted  since  daybreak.)  But  1 
wadna  affront  your  housewifeskep,  gudewife  ; and,  with 
your  permission,  I’se  e’en  pit  them  in  my  napkin,  and  eat 
them  to  my  supper  at  e’en,  for  I am  wearied  wi’  Mysie’s 
pastry  and  nonsense — ye  ken  landward  dainties  aye 
pleased  me  best,  Marion — and  landward  lasses  too — 
(looking  at  the  cooper’s  wife) — Ne’er  a bit  but  she  looks 
far  better  than  when  she  married  Gilbert,  and  then  she 
was  the  bonniest  lass  in  our  parochine  and  the  neest  till’t 
— But  gawsie  cow,  goodly  calf.” 

The  women  smiled  at  the  compliment  each  to  herself, 
and  they  smiled  again  to  each  other  as  Caleb  wrapt  up 
the  puddings  in  a towel  which  he  had  brought  with  him, 
as  a dragoon  carries  his  foraging  bag  to  receive  what  may 
fall  in  his  way. 

44  And  what  news  at  the  Castle  9”  quo’  the  gudewife. 
44  News  9 — the  bravest  news  ye  ever  heard — the  Lord 
Keeper’s  up  yonder  wi’  his  fair  daughter,  just  ready  to 
fling  her  at  my  lord’s  head,  if  he  winna  take  her  out  o’ 
his  arms ; and  I’se  warrant  he’ll  stitch  our  auld  lands  of 
Ravenswood  to  her  petticoat  tail.” 

44  Eh  ! sirs — aye  ! — and  will  he  hae  her  9 — and  is  she 
weel-favoured  9 — and  what’s  the  colour  o’  her  hair  9 — 
and  does  she  wear  a habit  or  a railly  9”  were  the  ques- 
tions which  the  females  showered  upon  the  butler. 


144 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Hout  tout ! — it  wad  tak  a man  a day  to  answer  a’ 
your  questions,  and  I hae  hardly  a minute.  Whare’s  the 
gudeman  V9 

“ Awa’  to  fetch  the  minister,”  said  Mrs.  Girder, 
u precious  Mr.  Peter  Bide-the-bent  frae  the  Mosshead — 
the  honest  man  has  the  rheumatism  wi’  lying  in  the  hills 
in  the  persecution.” 

“ Aye  ! — a whig  and  a mountain-man — nae  less,”  said 
Caleb,  with  a peevishness  he  could  not  suppress  ; “ I 
hae  seen  the  day,  Luckie,  when  worthy  Mr.  Cuffcushion 
and  the  service-book  would  hae  served  your  turn  (to  the 
elder  dame,)  or  ony  honest  woman  in  like  circumstances.” 
“ And  that’s  true  too,”  said  Mrs.  Lightbody,  “ but 
what  can  a body  do*? — Jean  maun  baith  sing  her  psalms 
and  busk  her  cockernony  the  gate  the  gudeman  likes,  and 
nae  ither  gate,  for  he’s  maister  and  mair  at  hame,  I can 
tell  ye,  Mr.  Balderstone.” 

“ Aye,  and  does  he  guide  the  gear  too  V9  said  Caleb, 
to  whose  projects  masculine  rule  boded  little  good. 

“ Ilka  penny  on’t — but  he’ll  dress  her  as  dink  as  a 
daisy,  as  ye  see — sae  she  has  little  reason  to  complain — 
where  there’s  ane  better  aff  there’s  ten  waur.” 

“ Aweel,  gudewife,”  said  Caleb,  crest-fallen,  but  not 
beaten  off,  “ that  wasna  the  way  ye  guided  your  gude- 
man ; but  ilka  land  has  its  ain  laucb.  1 maun  be  gang- 
ing— 1 just  wanted  to  round  in  the  gudeman’s  lug,  that  I 
heard  them  say  up  bye  yonder,  that  Peter  Puncheon  that 
was  cooper  to  the  Queen’s  stores  at  the  Timmer  Burse 
at  Leith,  is  dead — sae  I thought  that  maybe  a word  frae 
my  lord  to  the  Lord  Keeper  might  hae  served  Gilbert  ; 

but  since  he’s  frae  hame” 

“ O but  ye  maun  stay  his  hame-coming,”  said  the 
dame,  “ I aye  telled  the  gudeman  ye  meant  weel  to  him  ; 
but  he  taks  the  tout  at  every  bit  lippening  word.” 

“ Aweel,  I’ll  stay  the  last  minute  I can.” 

“ And  so,”  said  the  handsome  young  spouse  of  Mr. 
Girder,  “ ye  think  this  Miss  Ashton  is  weel-favoured — 
troth,  and  sae  should  she,  to  set  up  for  our  young  lord, 
with  a face,  and  a hand,  and  a seat  on  his  horse,  that 


THE  BRIDE  OE  JLAMMERMOOR. 


145 


might  become  a king’s  son — d’ye  ken  that  he  aye  glowers 
up  at  my  window,  Mr.  Balderstone,  when  he  chaunces  to 
ride  thro’  the  town,  sae  1 hae  a right  to  ken  what  like  he 

is,  as  weel  as  ony  body.” 

“ I ken  that  brawly,”  said  Caleb,  “ for  I hae  heard 
his  lordship  say  the  cooper’s  wife  had  the  blackest  e’e  in 
the  barony  ; and  I said,  Weel  may  that  be,  my  lord,  for 
it  was  her  mither’s  afore  her,  as  I ken  to  my  cost — Eh, 
Marion  9 Ha,  ha,  ha  ! — Ah  ! these  were  merry  days  !” 

“ Hout  awa,  auld  carle,”  said  the  old  dame,  “ to  speak 
sic  daffing  to  young  folk. — But,  Jean — fie,  woman,  dinna 
ye  hear  the  bairn  greet  9 l’se  warrant  it’s  that  dreary 
weid  has  come  ower’t  again.” 

Up  got  mother  and  grandmother,  and  scoured  away, 
jostling  each  other  as  they  ran,  into  some  remote  corner 
of  the  tenement,  where  the  young  hero  of  the  evening 
was  deposited.  When  Caleb  saw  the  coast  fairly  clear, 
he  took  an  invigorating  pinch  of  snuff,  to  sharpen  and 
confirm  his  resolution. 

“ Cauld  be  my  cast,”  thought  he  “ if  either  Bide- 
the-bent  or  Girder  taste  that  broche  of  wild-fowl  this 
evening  ;”  and  then  addressing  the  eldest  turnspit,  a boy 
of  about  eleven  years  old,  and  putting  a penny  into  his 
hand,  he  said,  “ Here  is  twal  pennies,*  my  man  ; carry 
that  ower  to  Mrs.  Sma’trash,  and  bid  her  fill  my  mill  wi’ 
sneeshing,  and  I’ll  turn  the  broche  for  ye  in  the  meantime 
— and  she  will  gi’e  ye  a ginge-bread  snap  for  your  pains.” 
No  sooner  was  the  elder  boy  departed  on  this  mission, 
than  Caleb,  looking  the  remaining  turnspit  gravely  and 
steadily  in  the  face,  removed  from  the  fire  the  spit  bear- 
ing the  wild-towl  of  which  he  had  undertaken  the  charge, 
clapped  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  fairly  marched  off  with 

it.  He  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Change-house  only 
to  say,  in  a few  brief  words,  that  Mr.  Hayston  of  Buck- 
law  was  not  to  expect  a bed  that  evening  in  the  castle. 

If  this  message  was  too  briefly  delivered  by  Caleb,  it 


* Monetae  Seoticae  scilicet. 


13  VOL,  I. 


146 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


became  absolute  rudeness  when  conveyed  through  the 
medium  of  a suburb  landlady  ; and  Bucklaw  was,  as  a 
more  calm  and  temperate  man  might  have  been,  highly 
incensed.  Captain  Craigengelt  proposed,  with  the  unan- 
imous applause  of  all  present,  that  they  should  course 
the  old  fox  (meaning  Caleb)  ere  he  got  to  cover,  and 
toss  him  in  a blanket.  But  Lockhard  intimated  to  his 
master’s  servants,  and  those  of  Lord  Bittlebrains,  in  a 
tone  of  authority,  that  the  slightest  impertinence  to  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood’s  domestic  would  give  Sir  William 
Ashton  the  highest  offence.  And  having  so  said,  in  a 
manner  sufficient  to  prevent  any  aggression  on  their  part, 
he  left  the  public-house,  taking  along  with  him  tw*o  ser- 
vants loaded  with  such  provisions  as  he  had  been  able  to 
procure,  and  overtook  Caleb  just  when  he  had  cleared 
the  village. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Should  I take  aught  of  you  ? — 7tis  true  I begged  now  ; 

And  what  is  worse  than  that,  I stole  a kindness  ; 

And,  what  is  worst  of  all,  I lost  my  way  in?t. 

Wit  without  Money. 

The  face  of  the  little  boy,  sole  witness  of  Caleb's  in- 
fringement upon  the  lawTs  at  once  of  property  and  hospi- 
tality, would  have  made  a good  picture.  He  sat  mo- 
tionless, as  if  he  had  witnessed  some  of  the  spectral 
appearances  which  he  had  heard  told  of  in  a winter’s 
evening  ; and  as  he  forgot  his  own  duty,  and  allowed  his 
spit  to  stand  still,  he  added  to  the  misfortunes  of  the 
evening,  by  suffering  the  mutton  to  burn  as  black  as  a 
coal.  He  was  first  recalled  from  his  trance  of  astonish- 
ment by  a hearty  cuff,  administered  by  dame  Lightbody, 
who  (in  whatever  other  respects  she  might  conform  to 
her  name,)  was  a woman  strong  of  person,  and  expert  in 


THE  BRIDE  OE  LAMMERMOOR. 


147 


the  use  of  her  hands,  as  some  say  her  deceased  husband 
had  known  to  his  cost. 

“ What  gar’d  ye  let  the  roast  burn,  ye  ill-cleckit  gude- 
for-nougbt?” 

“ I dinna  ken,”  said  the  boy, 

“ And  where’s  that  ill-deedy  gett,  Giles.” 

“ I dinna  ken,”  blubbered  the  astonished  declarant. 

“ And  where’s  Mr.  Balderstone  9 — and  abune  a’,  and 
in  the  name  of  council  and  kirk-session,  that  I suld  say 
sae,  where’s  the  broche  wi’  the  wild-fowl 9” 

As  Mrs.  Girder  here  entered,  and  joined  her  mother’s 
exclamations,  screaming  into  one  ear  while  the  old  lady 
deafened  the  other,  they  succeeded  in  so  utterly  con- 
founding the  unhappy  urchin,  that  he  could  not  for  some 
time  tell  his  story  at  all,  and  it  was  only  when  the  elder 
boy  returned,  that  the  truth  began  to  dawn  on  their  minds. 

“ Weel,  sirs!”  said  Mrs.  Lightbody,  “ wha  wad  hae 
thought  o’  Caleb  Balderstone  playing  an  auld  acquaint- 
ance sic  pliskie  9” 

“ O,  weary  on  him  !”  said  the  spouse  of  Mr.  Girder ; 
“ and  what  am  I to  say  to  the  gudeman  9 — he’ll  brain 
me,  if  there  wasna  anither  woman  in  a’  Wolfs-hope.” 

“ Hout  tout,  silly  quean,”  said  the  mother  ; “ na,  na 
— it’s  come  to  muckle,  but  it’s  no  come  to  that  neither ; 
for  an  he  brain  you  he  maun  brain  me,  and  I have  gar’d 
his  betters  stand  back — hands  aff  is  fair  play — we  maun- 
oaa  heed  a bit  flyting.” 

The  tramp  of  horses  now  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
cooper  with  the  minister.  They  had  no  sooner  dismount- 
ed than  they  made  for  the  kitchen  fire,  for  the  evening 
was  cool  after  the  thunder  storm,  and  the  roads  wet  and 
dirty.  The  young  gudewife,  strong  in  the  charms  of  her 
Sunday  gown  and  biggonets,  threw  herself  in  the  way  of 
receiving  the  first  attack,  while  her  mother,  like  the  vet- 
eran division  of  the  Roman  legion,  remained  in  the  rear, 
ready  to.  support  her  in  case  of  necessity.  Both  hoped 
to  protract  the  discovery  of  what  had  happened — the 
mother,  by  interposing  her  bustling  person  betwixt  Mr. 
Girder  and  the  fire,  and  the  daughter,  by  the  extreme  cor- 


148 


TAJLES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


diality  with  which  she  received  the  minister  and  her  hus- 
band, and  the  anxious  fears  which  she  expressed  lest  they 
should  have  “ gotten  cauld.” 

“ Cauld  V9  quoth  the  husband  surlily,  for  he  was  not 
of  that  class  of  lords  and  masters  whose  wives  are  vice- 
roys over  them — “ we’ll  be  cauld  aneugh,  I think,  if  ye 
dinna  let  us  in  to  the  fire.” 

And  so  saying,  he  burst  his  way  through  both  lines  of 
defence  ; and,  as  he  had  a careful  eye  over  his  property 
of  every  kind,  he  perceived  at  one  glance  the  absence 
of  the  spit  with  its  savoury  burden.  “ What  the  de’il, 
woman” 

“ Fye  for  shame  !”  exclaimed  both  the  women  ; “ and 
before  Mr.  Bide-the-bent !” 

“ I stand  reproved,”  said  the  cooper,  “ but” 

“ The  taking  in  our  mouths  the  name  of  the  great  ene- 
my of  our  souls,”  said  Mr.  Bide-the-bent — - — 

“ I stand  reproved,”  said  the  cooper. 

“ Is  an  exposing  ourselves  to  his  temptations,  and  an 
inviting,  or,  in  some  sort,  a compelling,  of  him  to  lay  aside 
his  other  trafficking  with  unhappy  persons,  and  wait  upon 
those  in  whose  speech  his  name  is  frequent.” 

“ Weel,  weel,  Mr.  Bide-the-bent,  can  a man  do  more 
than  stand  reproved  V9  said  the  cooper  ; “ but  just  let 
me  ask  the  women  what  for  they  hae  dished  the  wild-fowl 
before  we  came.” 

“ They  arena  dished,  Gilbert,”  said  his  wife  ; “ but — 
but  an  accident”- 

“ What  accident  V9  said -Girder,  with  flashing  eyes — 
“ nae  ill  come  owTer  them,  I trust  9 Uh  V9 

His  wife,  who  stood  much  in  awe  of  him,  durst  not 
reply,  but  her  mother  bustled  up  to  her  support. — “ I 
gied  them  to  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  Gibbie  Girder  ; 
and  what  about  it  now  V9 

Her  excess  of  assurance  struck  Girder  mute  for  an 
instant. — “ And  ye  gied  the  wild-fowl,  the  best  end  of  our 
christening  dinner,  to  a friend  of  yours,  ye  auld  rudas  5 
And  what  was  his  name,  I pray  ye  V9 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


149 


“ Worthy  Mr.  Caleb  Balderstone,  frae  Wolfs  Crag,” 
answered  Marion,  prompt  and  prepared  for  battle. 

Girder’s  wrath  foamed  over  all  restraint.  If  there  was 
a circumstance  which  could  have  added  to  the  resent- 
ment he  felt,  it  was,  that  this  extravagant  donation  had 
been  made  in  favour  of  our  friend  Caleb,  towards  whom, 
for  reasons  to  which  the  reader  is  no  stranger,  he  nour- 
ished a decided  resentment.  He  raised  his  riding  wand 
against  the  elder  matron,  but  she  stood  firm,  collected  in 
herself,  and  undauntedly  brandished  the  iron  ladle  with 
which  she  had  just  been  flaming  ( anglice , basting)  the 
roast  of  mutton.  Her  weapon  was  certainly  the  better, 
and  her  arm  not  the  weakest  of  the  two  ; so  that  Gilbert 
thought  it  safest  to  turn  short  off  upon  his  wife,  who  had 
by  this  time  hatched  a sort  of  hysterical  whine,  which 
greatly  moved  the  minister,  who  was  in  fact  as  simple  and 
kind-hearted  a creature  as  ever  breathed. — “ And  you, 
ye  trowless  jadd,  to  sit  still  and  see  my  substance  dispon- 
ed upon  to  an  idle,  drucken,  reprobate,  worm-eaten  serv- 
ing-man, just  because  he  kittles  the  lugs  o’  a silly  auld 
wife,  wi’  useless  clavers,  and  every  twa  words  a lie  — 
I’ll  gar  you  as  gude” 

Here  the  minister  interposed,  both  by  voice  and  action, 
while  dame  Lightbody  threw  herself  in  front  of  her 
daughter,  and  flourished  her  ladle. 

“ Am  l no  to  chastise  my  ain  wife  9”  said  the  cooper, 
very  indignantly. 

“Ye  may  chastise  your  ain  wife  if  ye  like,”  answered 
dame  Lightbody  ; “ but  ye  shall  never  lay  finger  on  ray 
daughter,  and  that  ye  may  found  upon.” 

“ For  shame,  Mr.  Girder,”  said  the  clergyman  ; “ this 
is  what  I little  expected  to  have  seen  of  you,  that  you  suld 
give  rein  to  your  sinful  passions  against  your  nearest  and 
your  dearest  ; and  this  night  too,  when  ye  are  called  to 
the  most  solemn  duty  of  a Christian  parent — and  a’  for 
what  9 for  a redundancy  of  creature-comforts,  as  worth- 
less as  they  are  unneedful.” 

13*  VOL.  I. 


150 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLO&iL 


“ Worthless  !”  exclaimed  the  cooper ; “ a better  guse 
never  vvalkit  on  stubble  ; twa  finer  dentier  wild-ducks 
never  wat  a feather.” 

“ Be  it  sae,  neighbour,”  rejoined  the  minister  ; “ but 
see  what  superfluities  are  yet  revolving  before  your  fire. 
[ have  seen  the  day  when  ten  of  the  bannocks  which  stand 
upon  that  board  would  have  been  an  acceptable  dainty  to 
as  many  men,  that  were  starving  on  hills  and  bogs,  and 
caves  of  the  earth,  for  the  Gospel’s  sake.” 

“ And  that’s  what  vexes  me  maist  of  a’,”  said  the 
cooper,  anxious  to  get  some  one  to  sympathize  with  his 
not  altogether  causeless  anger  ; “ an  the  quean  had  gi’en 
it  to  ony  suffering  saunt,  or  to  ony  body  ava  but  that  reav- 
ing, lying,  oppressing  tory  villain,  that  rade  in  the  wicked 
troop  of  militia  when  it  was  commanded  out  against  Ar- 
gyle  by  the  auld  tyrant  Allan  Ravens  wood,  that  is  gane 
to  his  place,  I wad  the  less  hae  minded  it.  But  to  gie  the 

principal  part  o’  the  feast  to  the  like  o’  him 

“ Aweel,  Gilbert,”  said  the  minister,  “ and  dinna  ye 
see  a high  judgment  in  this  9 — The  seed  of  the  righteous 
are  not  seen  begging  their  bread — think  of  the  son  of  a 
powerful  oppressor  being  brought  to  the  pass  of  support- 
ing his  household  from  your  fulness.” 

“ And  besides,”  said  the  wife,  “ it  wasna  for  Lord  Ra- 
venswood  neither,  an  he  wad  hear  but  a body  speak — it 
was  to  help  to  entertain  the  Lord  Keeper,  as  they  ca’ 
him,  that’s  up  yonder  at  Wolfs  Crag.” 

“ Sir  William  Ashton  at  Wolfs  Crag  !”  ejaculated  the 
astonished  man  of  hoops  and  staves. 

“ And  hand  and  glove  wi’  Lord  Ravenswood,”  added 
dame  Lightbody. 

“ Doited  idiot ! — that  auld  clavering  sneck-drawer  wad 
gar  ye  trow  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese. — The 
Lord  Keeper  and  Ravenswood  ! they  are  cat  and  dog, 
hare  and  hound.” 

“ I tell  ye  they  are  man  and  wife,  and  gree  better  than 
some  others,”  retorted  the  mother-in-law  ; “ forbye,  Pe- 
ter Puncheon,  that’s  cooper  to  the  queen’s  stores,  is  dead, 
and  the  place  is  to  fill,  and” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


151 


“ Od  guide  us,  wull  ye  haud  your  skirling  tongues,” 
said  Girder, — for  we  are  to  remark,  that  this  explanation 
was  given  like  a catch  for  two  voices,  the  younger  dame 
taking  up,  and  repeating  in  a higher  tone,  the  words  as 
fast  as  they  were  uttered  by  her  mother. 

“ The  gudewife  says  naething  but  what’s  true,  maister,” 
said  Girder’s  foreman,  who  had  come  in  during  the  fray. 
“ I saw  the  Lord  Keeper’s  servants  drinking  and  driving 
ower  at  Luckie  Sma’trash’s  ower  by  yonder.” 

“ And  is  their  maister  up  at  Wolfs  Crag V9  said  Girder. 
“ Ay,  troth  is  he,”  replied  the  man  of  confidence. 

“ An  friends  wi’  Ravenswood  V9 
“ It’s  like  sae,”  answered  the  foreman,  “ since  he  is 
putting  up  wi’  him.” 

“ And  Peter  Puncheon’s  dead  V9 
“ Ay,  ay — he  has  leaked  out  at  last,  the  auld  carle,” 
said  the  foreman  ; “ mony  a dribble  o’  brandy  has  gaen 
through  him  in  his  day. — But  as  for  the  broche  and  the 
wild-fowl,  the  saddle’s  no  aff  your  mare  yet,  maister,  and 
I could  follow  and  bring  it  back,  for  Mr.  Balderstone’s  no 
far  off  the  town  yet.” 

“ Do  sae,  Will — and  come  here — I’ll  tell  ye  what  to 
do  when  ye  owertake  him.” 

He  relieved  the  females  of  his  presence,  and  gave  Will 
his  private  instructions. 

“ A bonnie-like  thing,”  said  the  mother-in-law,  “ to 
send  the  innocent  lad  after  an  armed  man,  when  ye  ken 
Mr.  Balderstone  aye  wears  a rapier.” 

“ I trust,”  said  the  minister,  “ ye  have  reflected  weel 
on  what  ye  have  done,  lest  you  should  minister  cause  of 
strife,  of  which  it  is  my  duty  to  say,  he  who  affordeth 
matter  is  in  no  manner  guiltless.” 

“ Never  fash  your  beard,  Mr.  Bide-the-bent — ane  can- 
na  get  their  breath  out  here  between  wives  and  ministers 
— I ken  best  how  to  turn  my  ain  cake. — Jean,  serve  up 
the  dinner,  and  nae  mair  about  it.” 

Nop  did  he  again  allude  to  the  deficiency  in  the  course 
of  the  evening. 


152 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Meantime,  the  foreman,  mounted  on  his  master’s  steed, 
and  charged  with  his  special  orders,  pricked  swiftly  forth 
in  pursuit  of  the  marauder  Caleb.  That  personage,  it 
may  be  imagined,  did  not  linger  by  the  way.  He  inter- 
mitted even  his  dearly-beloved  chatter,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  more  haste — only  assuring  Mr.  Lockhard  that  he 
had  made  the  purveyor’s  wife  give  the  wild-fowl  a few 
turns  before  the  fire,  in  case  that  Mysie,  who  had  been  so 
much  alarmed  by  the  thunder,  should  not  have  her  kitch- 
en-grate in  full  splendour.  Meanwhile,  alleging  the  ne- 
cessity of  being  at  Wolfs  Crag  as  soon  as  possible,  he 
pushed  on  so  fast  that  his  companions  could  scarce  keep 
up  with  him.  He  began  already  to  think  he  was  safe  from 
pursuit,  having  gained  the  summit  of  the  swelling  eminence 
which  divides  Wolfs  Crag  from  the  village,  when  he 
heard  the  distant  tread  of  a horse,  and  a voice  which 
shouted  at  intervals,  “ Mr.  Caleb — Mr.  Balderstone — 
Mr.  Caleb  Balderstone — hollo — bide  a wee  !” 

Caleb,  it  may  be  well  believed,  was  in  no  hurry  to  ac- 
knowledge the  summons.  First,  he  would  not  hear  it, 
and  faced  his  companions  down,  that  it  was  the  echo  of 
the  wind  ; then  he  said  it  was  not  worth  stopping  for  ; and, 
at  length,  halting  reluctantly,  as  the  figure  of  the  horse- 
man appeared  through  the  shades  of  the  evening,  he  bent 
up  his  whole  soul  to  the  task  of  defending  his  prey,  threw 
himself  into  an  attitude  of  dignity,  advanced  the  spit,  which 
in  his  grasp  “ might  seem  both  spear  and  shield,”  and 
firmly  resolved  to  die  rather  than  surrender  it. 

What  was  his  astonishment,  when  the  cooper’s  foreman, 
riding  up  and  addressing  him  with  respect,  told  him,  “ his 
master  was  sorry  he  was  absent  when  he  came  to  his 
dwelling,  and  grieved  that  he  could  not  tarry  the  christen- 
ing dinner,  and  that  he  had  ta’en  the  freedom  to  send  a 
sma’  rundlet  of  sack,  and  ane  anker  of  brandy,  as  he 
understood  there  were  guests  at  the  castle,  and  that  they 
were  short  of  preparation.” 

I have  heard  somewhere  a story  of  an  elderly  gentle- 
man who  was  pursued  by  a bear  that  had  gotten  loose  from 
its  muzzle,  until  completely  exhausted.  In  a fit  of  des- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  15& 

peration,  he  faced  round  upon  Bruin  and  lifted  his  cane  ; 
at  the  sight  of  which  the  instinct  of  discipline  prevailed, 
and  the  animal,  instead  of  tearing  him  to  pieces,  rose  up 
upon  his  hind-legs,  and  instantly  began  to  shuffle  a sara- 
band. Not  less  than  the  joyful  surprise  of  the  senior, 
who  had  supposed  himself  in  the  extremity  of  peril  from 
which  he  was  thus  unexpectedly  relieved,  was  that  of  our 
excellent  friend  Caleb,  when  he  found  the  pursuer  intend- 
ed to  add  to  his  prize,  instead  of  bereaving  him  of  it. 
He  recovered  his  latitude,  however,  instantly,  so  soon  as 
the  foreman,  stooping  from  his  nag,  where  he  sat  perched 
betwixt  the  two  barrels,  whispered  in  his  ear, — “ if  ony 
thing  about  Peter  Puncheon’s  place  could  be  airted  their 
way,  Gilbert  Girder  wad  mak  it  better  to  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood  than  a pair  of  new  gloves  ; and  that  he  wad  be 
blithe  to  speak  wi’  maister  Balderstone  on  that  head,  and 
he  wad  find  him  as  pliant  as  a hoop-willow  in  a’  that  he 
could  wish  of  him.” 

Caleb  heard  all  this  without  rendering  any  answer,  ex- 
cept that  of  all  great  men  from  Louis  XIV.  downwards, 
namely,  “ we  will  see  about  it  and  then  added  aloud, 
for  the  edification  of  Mr.  Lockhard, — “ Your  master  has 
acted  with  becoming  civility  and  attention  in  forwarding 
the  liquors,  and  1 will  not  fail  to  represent  it  properly  to 
my  Lord  Ravenswood.  And,  my  lad,”  he  said,  “ you 
may  ride  on  to  the  castle,  and  if  none  of  the  servants  are 
returned,  whilk  is  to  be  dreaded,  as  they  make  day  and 
night  of  it  when  they  are  out  of  sight,  ye  may  put  them 
into  the  porter’s  lodge,  whilk  is  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
great  entry — the  porter  has  got  leave  to  go  to  see  his 
friends,  sae  ye  will  meet  no  ane  to  steer  ye.” 

The  foreman,  having  received  his  orders,  rode  on  ; 
and  having  deposited  the  casks  in  the  deserted  and  ruin- 
ous porter’s  lodge,  he  returned  unquestioned  by  any  one. 
Having  thus  executed  his  master’s  commission,  and  doffed 
his  bonnet  to  Caleb  and  his  company  as  he  repassed  them 
in  his  way  to  the  village,  he  returned  to  have  his  share  of 
the  christening  festivity. 


154 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

As,  to  the  Autuir.n  breezes’  bugle-sound, 

Various  and  vague  the  dry  leaves  dance  their  round  ; 

Or,  from  the  garner-door,  on  aether  borne, 

The  chaff  flies  devious  from  the  winnow’d  corn  ; 

So  vague,  so  devious,  at  the  breath  of  heaven, 

From  their  fix'd  aim  are  mortal  counsels  driv’n. 

Anonymous. 

We  left  Caleb  Balderstone  in  the  extremity  of  triumph 
at  the  success  of  his  various  achievements  for  the  honour 
of  the  house  of  Ravenswood.  When  he  had  mustered  and 
marshalled  his  dishes  of  divers  kinds,  a more  royal  pro- 
vision had  not  been  seen  in  Wolf’s  Crag,  since  the  funeral 
feast  of  its  deceased  lord.  Great  was  the  glory  of  the 
serving-man,  as  he  decored  the  old  oaken  table  with  a clean 
cloth,  and  arranged  upon  it  carbonaded  venison  and  roast- 
ed wild-fowl,  with  a glance,  every  now  and  then,  as  if  to 
upbraid  the  incredulity  of  his  master  and  his  guests  ; and 
with  many  a story,  more  or  less  true,  was  Lockhard  that 
evening  regaled  concerning  the  ancient  grandeur  of  Wolfs 
Crag,  and  the  sway  of  its  Barons  over  the  country  in  their 
neighbourhood. 

“ A vassal  scarce  held  a calf  or  a lamb  his  ain,  till  he 
had  first  asked  if  the  Lord  of  Ravenswood  was  pleased  to 
^accept  it ; and  they  were  obliged  to  ask  the  lord’s  consent 
before  they  married  in  these  days,  and  mony  a merry  tale 
they  tell  about  that  right  as  weel  as  others.  And  although,” 
said  Caleb,  “ these  times  are  not  like  the  gude  auld  times, 
when  authority  had  its  right,  yet,  true  it  is,  Mr.  Lockhard, 
and  you  yoursell  may  partly  have  remarked,  that  we  of 
the  House  of  Ravenswood  do  our  endeavour  in  keeping 
up,  by  all  just  and  lawful  exertion  of  our  baronial  author- 
ity, that  due  and  fitting  connection  betwixt  superior  and 
vassal,  whilk  is  in  some  danger  of  falling  into  desuetude, 


THE  JBRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOK. 


155 


owing  to  the  general  license  and  misrule  of  these  present 
unhappy  times.” 

“ Umph  !”  said  Mr.  Lockhard  ; “ and  if  I may  in- 
quire, Mr.  Balderstone,  pray  do  you  find  your  people  at 
the  village  yonder  amenable  for  I must  needs  say,  that 
at  Ravenswood  Castle,  now  pertaining  to  my  master,  the 
Lord  Keeper,  ye  have  not  left  behind  ye  the  most  com- 
pliant set  of  tenantry.” 

“ Ah  ! but  Mr.  Lockhard,”  replied  Caleb,  “ ye  must 
consider  there  has  been  a change  of  hands,  and  the  auld 
lord  might  expect  twa  turns  frae  them,  when  the  new 
comer  canna  get  ane.  A dour  and  fractious  set  they  were, 
thae  tenants  of  Ravenswood,  and  ill  to  live  wi’  when  they 
dinna  ken  their  matter — and  if  your  master  put  them  mad 
ance,  the  whole  country  will  not  put  them  down.” 

“ Troth,”  said  Mr.  Lockhard,  “ an  such  be  the  case, 
I think  the  wisest  thing  for  us  a’  wad  be  to  hammer  up  a 
match  between  your  young  lord  and  our  winsome  young 
leddy  up  by  there  ; and  Sir  William  might  just  stitch 
your  auld  barony  to  her  gown-sleeve,  and  he  wad  sune 
cuitle  another  out  o’  somebody  else,  sic  a lang  head  as 
he  has.” 

Caleb  shook  his  head. — “ I wish,”  he  said,  “ I wish  that 
may  answer,  Mr.  Lockhard.  There  are  auld  prophecies 
about  this  house  I wad  like  ill  to  see  fulfilled  wi’  my  auld 
e’en,  that  has  seen  evil  aneugh  already.” 

“ Pshaw  ! never  mind  freits,”  said  his  brother  butler  ; 
“ if  the  young  folk  liked  ane  anither,  they  wad  make  a 
winsome  couple.  But,  to  say  truth,  there  is  a leddy  sits 
in  our  hall-nook,  maun  have  her  hand  in  that  as  weel  as 
in  every  other  job.  But  there’s  no  harm  in  drinking  to 
their  healths,  and  I will  fill  Mrs.  Mysie  a cup  of  Mr.  Gir- 
der’s canary.” 

While  they  thus  enjoyed  themselves  in  the  kitchen,  the 
company  in  the  hall  were  not  less  pleasantly  engaged. 
So  soon  as  Ravenswood  had  determined  upon  giving  the 
Lord  Keeper  such  hospitality  as  he  had  to  offer,  he  deem- 
ed it  incumbent  on  him  to  assume  the  open  and  courteous 
brow  of  a well-pleased  host.  It  has  been  often  remarked, 


156 


TAX.ES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


that  when  a man  commences  by  acting  a character,  he 
frequently  ends  by  adopting  it  in  good  earnest.  In  the 
course  of  an  hour  or  two,  Ravens  wood,  to  his  own  sur- 
prise, found  himself  in  the  situation  of  one  who  frankly 
does  his  best  to  entertain  welcome  and  honoured  guests. 
How  much  of  this  change  in  his  disposition  was  to  be  as- 
cribed to  the  beauty  and  simplicity  of  Miss  Ashton,  to  the 
readiness  with  which  she  accommodated  herself  to  the  in- 
conveniences of  her  situation — how  much  to  the  smooth 
and  plausible  conversation  of  the  Lord  Keeper,  remarkably 
gifted  with  those  words  which  win  the  ear,  must  be  left  to 
the  reader’s  ingenuity  to  conjecture.  But  Ravenswood 
was  insensible  to  neither. 

The  Lord  Keeper  was  a veteran  statesman,  well  ac- 
quainted with  courts  and  cabinets,  and  intimate  with  all 
the  various  turns  of  public  affairs  during  the  last  eventful 
years  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  could  talk,  from 
his  own  knowledge,  of  men  and  events,  in  a way  which 
failed  not  to  win  attention,  and  had  the  peculiar  art,  while 
he  never  said  a word  which  committed  himself,  at  the 
same  time  to  persuade  the  hearer  that  he  was  speaking 
without  the  least  shadow  of  scrupulous  caution  or  reserve. 
Ravenswood,  in  spite  of  his  prejudices  and  real  grounds 
of  resentment,  felt  himself  at  once  amused  and  instructed 
in  listening  to  him,  while  the  statesman,  whose  inward 
feelings  had  at  first  so  much  impeded  his  first  efforts  to 
make  himself  known,  had  now  regained  all  the  ease  and 
fluency  of  a silver-tongued  lawyer  of  the  very  highest 
order. 

His  daughter  did  not  speak  much,  but  she  smiled  ; and 
what  she  did  say  argued  a submissive  gentleness,  and  a 
desire  to  give  pleasure,  which,  to  a proud  man  like  Ra- 
venswood was  more  fascinating  than  the  most  brilliant  wit. 
Above  all,  he  could  not  but  observe,  that,  whether  from 
gratitude,  or  from  some  other  motive,  he  himself,  in  his 
deserted  and  unprovided  hall,  was  as  much  the  object  of 
respectful  attention  to  his  guests,  as  he  would  have  been 
when  surrounded  by  all  the  appliances  and  means  of  hos- 
pitality proper  to  his  high  birth.  All  deficiencies  passed 


THE  BRIDE  OF  1AMMERMOOB. 


157 


unobserved,  or  if  they  did  not  escape  notice,  it  was  to 
praise  the  substitutes  which  Caleb  had  contrived  to  supply 
the  want  of  the  usual  accommodations.  Where  a smile 
was  unavoidable,  it  was  a very  good-humoured  one,  and 
often  coupled  with  some  well-turned  compliment,  to  show 
how  much  the  guests  esteemed  the  merit  of  their  noble 
host,  how  little  they  thought  of  the  inconveniences  with 
which  they  were  surrounded.  1 am  not  sure  whether  the 
pride  of  being  found  to  outbalance,  in  virtue  of  his  own 
personal  merit,  all  the  disadvantages  of  fortune,  did  not 
make  as  favourable  an  impression  upon  the  haughty  heart 
of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  as  the  conversation  of  the 
father  and  the  beauty  of  Lucy  Ashton. 

The  hour  of  repose  arrived.  The  Keeper  and  his 
daughter  retired  to  their  apartments,  which  were  “ decor- 
ed”  more  properly  than  could  have  been  anticipated.  In 
making  the  necessary  arrangements,  Mysie  had  indeed 
enjoyed  the  assistance  of  a gossip  who  had  arrived  from 
the  village  upon  an  exploratory  expedition,  but  had  been 
arrested  by  Caleb,  and  impressed  into  the  domestic 
drudgery  of  the  evening.  So  that,  instead  of  returning 
home  to  describe  the  dress  and  person  of  the  grand  young 
lady,  she  found  herself  compelled  to  be  active  in  the  do- 
mestic economy  of  Wolfs  Crag. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood attended  the  Lord  Keeper  to  his  apartment, 
followed  by  Caleb,  who  placed  on  the  table,  with  all  the 
ceremonials  due  to  torches  of  wax,  two  rudely  framed 
tallow  candles,  such  as  in  those  days  were  only  used  by 
the  peasantry,  hooped  in  paltry  clasps  of  wire,  which  serv- 
ed for  candlesticks.  He  then  disappeared,  and  presently 
entered  with  two  earthen  flagons,  (the  china,  he  said,  had 
been  little  used  since  my  lady’s  time,)  one  filled  with  ca- 
nary wine,  the  other  with  brandy.  The  canary  sack,  un- 
heeding all  probabilities  of  detection,  he  declared  had 
been  twenty  years  in  the  cellars  of  Wolfs  Crag,  “ though 
it  was  not  for  him  to  speak  before  their  honours  ; the 
brandy, — it  was  weel  kenn’d  liquor,  as  mild  as  mead,  and 
14  VOL.  I. 


158 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


as  strong  as  Sampson — it  had  been  in  the  house  ever  since 
the  memorable  revel,  in  which  auld  Mickletob  had  been 
slain  at  the  head  of  the  stair  by  Jamie  of  Jenklebrae,  on 
account  of  the  honour  of  the  worshipful  Lady  Muirend, 
wha  was  in  some  sort  an  ally  of  the  family  ; natheless” — 
“ But  to  cut  that  matter  short,  Mr.  Caleb,”  said  the 
Keeper,  “ perhaps  you  will  favour  me  with  a ewer  of 
water.” 

“ God  forbid  your  lordship  should  drink  water  in  this 
family  to  the  disgrace  of  so  honourable  an  house  !” 

“ Nevertheless,  if  his  lordship  have  a fancy,”  said  the 
Master,  smiling,  “ 1 think  you  might  indulge  him  ; for,  if 
I mistake  not,  there  has  been  water  drunk  here  at  no  dis- 
tant date,  and  with  good  relish  too.” 

“ To  be  sure,  if  his  lordship  has  a fancy,”  said  Caleb  ; 
and  re-entering  with  a jug  of  pure  element — “ He  will 
scarce  find  such  water  ony  where  as  is  drawn  frae  the 

well  at  Wolfs  Crag — nevertheless” 

“ Nevertheless,  we  must  leave  the  Lord  Keeper  to  his 
repose  in  this  poor  chamber  of  ours,”  said  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  interrupting  his  talkative  domestic,  who  im- 
mediately turned  to  the  door-way,  with  a profound  rever- 
ence, prepared  to  usher  his  master  from  the  secret 
chamber. 

But  the  Lord  Keeper  prevented  his  host’s  departure. — 

“ I have  but  one  word  to  say  to  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood, Mr.  Caleb,  and  l fancy  he  will  excuse  your  waiting.” 
With  a second  reverence,  lower  than  the  former,  Ca- 
leb withdrew — and  his  master  stood  motionless,  expect- 
ing, with  considerable  embarrassment,  what  was  to  close 
the  events  of  a day  fraught  with  unexpected  incidents. 

“ Master  of  Ravenswood,”  said  Sir  William  Ashton, 
with  some  embarrassment,  “ I hope  you  understand  the 
Christian  law  too  well  to  suffer  the  sun  to  set  upon  your 
anger  V9 

The  Master  blushed,  and  replied,  “ He  had  no  occa- 
sion that  evening  to  exercise  the  duty  enjoined  upon  him  - 
by  his  Christian  faith.” 


THE  BKIDE  OF  1AMMERM00R. 


159 


I should  have  thought  otherwise,”  said  his  guest, 
“ considering  the  various  subjects  of  dispute  and  litigation 
which  have  unhappily  occurred  more  frequently  than  was 
desirable  or  necessary  betwixt  the  late  honourable  lord, 
your  father,  and  myself.” 

“ I could  wish,  my  lord,”  said  Ravenswood,  agitated 
by  suppressed  emotion,  “ that  reference  to  these  circum- 
stances should  be  made  anywhere  rather  than  under  my 
father’s  roof.” 

“ I should  have  felt  this  appeal  at  another  time,”  said 
Sir  William  Ashton,  “ but  now  I must  proceed  with  what 
J mean  to  say. — I have  suffered  too  much  in  my  own  mind, 
from  the  false  delicacy  which  prevented  my  soliciting  with 
earnestness,  what  indeed  I frequently  requested,  a per- 
sonal communing  with  your  father — much  distress  of 
mind  to  him  and  to  me  might  have  been  prevented.” 

“ It  is  true,”  said  Ravenswood,  after  a moment’s  re- 
flection ; “ I have  heard  my  father  say  your  lordship  had 
proposed  a personal  interview.” 

“ Proposed,  my  dear  Master  I did  indeed  propose  it, 
but  I ought  to  have  hegged,  entreated,  besought  it.  I 
ought  to  have  torn  away  the  veil  which  interested  persons 
had  stretched  betwixt  us,  and  shown  myself  as  I was, 
willing  to  sacrifice  a considerable  part  even  of  my  legal 
rights  in  order  to  conciliate  feelings  so  natural  as  his  must 
be  allowed  to  have  been.  Let  me  say  for  myself,  my 
young  friend,  for  so  I will  call  you,  that  had  your  father 
and  I spent  the  same  time  together  which  my  good  fortune 
has  allowed  me  to-day  to  pass  in  your  company,  it  is  pos- 
sible the  land  might  yet  have  enjoyed  one  of  the  most 
respectable  of  its  ancient  nobility,  and  1 should  have  been 
spared  the  pain  of  parting  in  enmity  from  a person  whose 
general  character  I so  much  admired  and  honoured.” 

He  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes.  Ravenswood 
also  was  moved,  but  awaited  in  silence  the  progress  of 
this  extraordinary  communication. 

“ It  is  necessary,”  continued  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ and 
proper  that  you  should  understand,  that  there  have  been 
many  points  betwixt  us,  in  which,  although  1 judged  it 


160 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


proper  that  there  should  be  an  exact  ascertainment  of  my 
legal  rights  by  the  decree  of  a court  of  justice,  yet  it  was 
never  my  intention  to  press  them  beyond  the  verge  of 
equity.” 

“ My  lord,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  “ it  is 
unnecessary  to  pursue  this  topic  farther.  What  the  law 
will  give  you,  or  has  given  you,  you  enjoy — or  you  shall 
enjoy  ; neither  my  father,  nor  I myself,  would  have  re- 
ceived any  thing  on  the  footing  of  favour.” 

“ Favour  — no — you  misunderstand  me,”  resumed 
the  Keeper  ; “ or  rather  you  are  no  lawyer.  A right 
may  be  good  in  law,  and  ascertained  to  be  so,  which  yet 
a man  of  honour  may  not  in  every  case  care  to  avail 
himself  of.” 

“ I am  sorry  for  it,  my  lord,”  said  the  Master. 

“ Nay,  nay,”  retorted  his  guest,  “ you  speak  like  a 
young  counsellor  ; your  spirit  goes  before  your  prudence. 
There  are  many  things  still  open  for  decision  betwixt  us. 
Can  you  blame  me,  an  old  man  desirous  of  p6ace,  and 
the  guest  of  a young  nobleman  who  has  saved  my  daugh- 
ter’s life  and  my  own,  that  1 am  desirous,  anxiously  desir- 
ous, that  these  should  be  settled  on  the  most  liberal  prin- 
ciples *?” 

The  old  man  kept  fast  hold  of  the  Master’s  passive  hand 
as  he  spoke,  and  made  it  impossible  for  him,  be  his  pre- 
determination what  it  would,  to  return  any  other  than  an 
acquiescent  reply  ; and  wishing  his  guest  good  night,  he 
postponed  farther  conference  until  the  next  morning. 

Ravenswood  hurried  into  the  hall  where  he  was  to  spend 
the  night,  and  for  a time  traversed  its  pavement  with  a dis- 
ordered and  rapid  pace.  His  mortal  foe  was  under  his 
roof,  yet  his  sentiments  towards  him  were  neither  those  of 
a feudal  enemy  nor  of  a true  Christian.  He  felt  as  if  he 
could  neither  forgive  him  in  one  character,  or  follow  forth 
his  vengeance  in  the  other,  but  that  he  was  making  a base 
and  dishonourable  composition  betwixt  his  resentment 
against  the  father  and  his  affection  for  his  daughter.  He 
cursed  himself,  as  he  hurried  to  and  fro  in  the  pale  moon- 
light, and  more  ruddy  gleams  of  the  expiring  wood-fire. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


161 


He  threw  open  and  shut  the  latticed  windows  with  vio- 
lence, as  if  alike  impatient  of  the  admission  and  exclusion 
of  free  air.  At  length,  however,  the  torrent  of  passion 
foamed  off  its  madness,  and  he  threw  himself  into  the 
chair,  which  he  proposed  as  his  place  of  repose  for  the 
night. 

“ If,  in  reality,” — such  were  the  calmer  thoughts  that 
followed  the  first  tempest  of  his  passion — “ If,  in  reality, 
this  man  desires  no  more  than  the  law  allows  him — if  he 
is  willing  to  adjust  even  his  acknowledged  rights  upon  an 
equitable  footing,  what  could  be  my  father’s  cause  of  com- 
plaint 9 — what  is  mine  9 — Those  from  whom  we  won  our 
ancient  possessions  fell  under  the  sword  of  my  ancestors, 
and  left  lands  and  livings  to  the  conquerors ; we  sink  un- 
der the  force  of  the  law,  now  too  powerful  for  the  Scot- 
tish chivalry.  Let  us  parley  with  the  victors  of  the  day, 
as  if  we  had  been  besieged  in  our  fortress  and  without  hope 
of  relief.  This  man  may  be  other  than  I have  believed 
him  ; and  his  daughter — but  I have  resolved  not  to  think 
upon  her.” 

He  wrapt  his  cloak  around  him,  fell  asleep,  and  dream- 
ed of  Lucy  Ashton  till  day-light  gleamed  through  the 
lattices. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

We  worldly  men,  when  we  see  friends  and  kinsmen 
Past  hope  sunk  in  their  fortunes,  lend  no  hand 
To  lift  them  up,  but  rather  set  our  feet 
Upon  their  heads  to  press  them  to  the  bottom, 

As  I must  yield  with  you  I practised  it ; 

But  now  I see  you  in  a way  to  rise, 

I can  and  will  assist  you. — 

New  Waij  to  Pay  Old  Debts. 

The  Lord  Keeper  carried  with  him  to  a couch,  harder 
than  he  was  accustomed  to  stretch  himself  upon,  the  same 
ambitious  thoughts  and  political  perplexities,  which  drive 
14*  VOL.  i. 


162 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


sleep  from  the  softest  down  that  ever  spread  a bed  of  state. 
He  had  sailed  long  enough  amid  the  contending  tides  and 
currents  of  the  time  to  be  sensible  of  their  peril,  and  of 
the  necessity  of  trimming  his  vessel  to  the  prevailing 
wind,  if  he  would  have  her  escape  shipwreck  in  the  storm. 
The  nature  of  his  talents,  and  the  timorousness  of  dispo- 
sition connected  with  them,  had  made  him  assume  the 
pliability  of  the  versatile  old  Earl  of  Northampton,  who 
explained  the  art  by  which  he  kept  his  ground  during  all 
the  changes  of  state,  from  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  to  that 
of  Elizabeth,  by  the  frank  avowal,  that  he  was  born  of 
the  willow,  not  of  the  oak.  It  had  accordingly  been  Sir 
William  Ashton’s  policy,  on  all  occasions,  to  watch  the 
changes  in  the  political  horizon,  and,  ere  yet  the  conflict 
was  decided,  to  negociate  some  interest  for  himself  with 
the  party  most  likely  to  prove  victorious.  His  time-serv- 
ing disposition  was  well  known,  and  excited  the  contempt 
of  the  more  daring  leaders  of  both  factions  in  the  state. 
But  his  talents  were  of  a useful  and  practical  kind,  ^nd 
his  legal  knowledge  held  in  high  estimation  ; and  they  so 
far  counter-balanced  other  deficiencies,  that  those  in  power 
were  glad  to  use  and  to  reward,  though  without  trusting 
or  respecting  him. 

The  Marquis  of  A had  used  his  utmost  influence 

to  effect  a change  in  the  Scottish  cabinet,  and  his  schemes 
had  been  of  late  so  well  laid  and  so  ably  supported,  that 
there  appeared  a very  great  chance  of  his  proving  ulti- 
mately successful.  He  did  not,  however,  feel  so  strong 
or  so  confident  as  to  neglect  any  means  of  drawing  recruits 
to  his  standard.  The  acquisition  of  the  Lord  Keeper 
was  deemed  of  some  importance,  and  a friend,  perfectly 
acquainted  with  his  circumstances  and  character,  became 
responsible  for  his  political  conversion. 

When  this  gentleman  arrived  at  Ravenswood  Castle 
upon  a visit,  the  real  purpose  of  which  was  disguised  un- 
der general  courtesy,  he  found  the  prevailing  fear,  which 
at  present  beset  the  Lord  Keeper,  was  that  of  danger  to 
his  own  person  from  the  Master  of  Ravenswood.  The 
language  which  the  blind  sibyl,  old  Alice,  had  used  ; the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR, 


163 


sudden  appearance  of  the  Master,  armed,  and  within  his 
precincts,  immediately  after  he  had  been  warned  against 
danger  from  him  ; the  cold  and  haughty  return  received 
in  exchange  for  the  acknowledgments  with  which  he  load- 
ed him  for  his  timely  protection,  had  all  made  a strong 
impression  on  his  imagination. 

So  soon  as  the  Marquis’s  political  agent  found  how  the 
wind  sat,  he  began  to  insinuate  fears  and  doubts  of  anoth- 
er kind,  scarce  less  calculated  to  affect  the  Lord  Keeper. 
He  inquired  with  seeming  interest,  whether  the  proceed- 
ings in  Sir  William’s  complicated  litigation  with  the  Rav- 
enswood  family  was  out  of  court,  and  settled  without  the 
possibility  of  an  appeal  9 The  Lord  Keeper  answered 
in  the  affirmative ; but  his  interrogator  was  too  well  in- 
formed to  be  imposed  upon.  He  pointed  out  to  him  by 
unanswerable  arguments,  that  some  of  the  most  important 
points  which  had  been  decided  in  his  favour  against  the 
House  of  Ravenswood,  were  liable  to  be  reviewed  by  the 
Estates  of  the  Kingdom,  i . e.  by  the  Scottish  Parliament, 
upon  an  appeal  by  the  party  injured,  or  as  it  was  techni- 
cally termed,  “ a protestation  for  remeid  in  law.” 

The  Lord  Keeper,  after  he  had  for  some  time  disput- 
ed the  legality  of  such  a proceeding,  was  compelled,  at 
length,  to  comfort  himself  with  the  improbability  of  the 
young  Master  of  Ravenswood  finding  friends  in  Parlia- 
ment, capable  of  stirring  in  so  weighty  an  affair. 

“ Do  not  comfort  yourself  with  that  false  hope,”  said 
his  wily  friend  ; “ it  is  possible,  that  in  the  next  session 
of  Parliament,  young  Ravenswood  may  find  more  friends 
and  favour  even  than  your  lordship.” 

“ That  would  be  a sight  worth  seeing,”  said  the  Keep- 
er scornfully. 

“ And  yet,”  said  his  friend,  such  things  have  been  seen 
ere  now,  and  in  our  own  time.  There  are  many  at  the 
head  of  affairs  even  now,  that  a few  years  ago  were  un- 
der hiding  for  their  lives ; and  many  a man  dining  on 
plate  of  silver,  that  was  fain  to  eat  his  crowdy  without  a 
bicker  ; and  many  a high  head  has  been  brought  full  low 
among  us  in  as  short  a space.  Scott  of  Scotstarvet’s 


164 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


‘ Staggering  State  of  Scots  Statesmen,’  of  which  curious 
memoir  you  showed  me  a manuscript,  has  been  out-stag- 
gered in  our  time.” 

The  Lord  Keeper  answered  with  a deep  sigh,  “ that 
these  mutations  were  no  new  sights  in  Scotland,  and  had 
been  witnessed  long  before  the  time  of  the  satirical  author 
he  had  quoted.  It  was  many  a long  year,”  he  said 
“ since  Fordun  had  quoted  as  an  ancient  proverb,  ‘ neque 
dives , neque  fortis,  sed  nee  sapiens  Scotus , prcedominante 
invidia  diu , durabit  in  terra?  ” 

“ And  be  assured,  my  esteemed  friend,”  was  the  an- 
swer, “ that  even  your  long  services  to  the  state,  or  deep 
legal  knowledge,  will  not  save  you,  or  render  your  estate 
stable,  if  the  Marquis  of  A comes  in  with  a Parlia- 

ment according  to  his  will.  You  know  that  the  deceased 
Lord  Ravenswood  was  his  near  ally,  his  lady  being  fifth 
in  descent  from  the  Knight  of  Tillibardine ; and  I am 
well  assured  that  he  will  take  young  Ravenswood  by  the 
hand,  and  be  his  very  good  lord  and  kinsman.  Why 
should  he  not  9 — he  is  an  active  and  stirring  young  fellow, 
able  to  help  himself  with  tongue  and  hands ; and  it  is 
such  as  he  that  finds  friends  among  their  kindred,  and 
not  those  unarmed  and  unable  Mephebosheths,  that  are 
sure  to  be  a burthen  to  every  one  that  takes  them  up. 
And  so,  if  these  Ravenswood  cases  be  called  over  the 
coals  in  Parliament,  you  will  find  that  the  Marquis  will 
have  a crow  to  pluck  with  you.” 

“ That  would  be  an  evil  requital,”  said  the  Lord  Keep- 
er, “ for  my  long  services  to  the  state,  and  the  ancient 
respect  in  which  I have  held  his  lordship’s  honourable 
family  and  person.” 

“ Aye,  but,”  "rejoined  the  agent  of  the  Marquis,  “ it  is 
in  vain  to  look  back  on  past  service  and  auld  respect,  my 
lord — it  will  be  present  service  and  immediate  proofs  of 
regard,  which,  in  these  sliddery  times,  will  be  expected 
by  a man  like  the  Marquis.” 

The  Lord  Keeper  now  saw  the  full  drift  of  his  friend’s 
argument,  but  he  was  too  cautious  to  return  any  positive 
answer. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


165 


“ He  knew  not,”  he  said,  “ the  service  which  the  Lord 
Marquis  could  expect  from  one  of  his  limited  abilities,  that 
had  not  always  stood  at  his  lordship’s  command,  still 
saving  and  reserving  bis  duty  to  his  king  and  country.” 

Having  thus  said  nothing,  while  he  seemed  to  say  every 
thing,  for  the  exception  was  calculated  to  cover  whatever 
he  might  afterwards  think  proper  to  bring  under  it,  Sir 
William  Ashton  changed  the  conversation,  nor  did  he 
again  permit  it  to  be  introduced.  His  guest  departed, 
without  having  brought  the  wily  old  statesman  the  length 
of  committing  himself,  or  of  pledging  himself  to  any  fu- 
ture line  of  conduct,  but  with  the  certainty  that  he  had 
alarmed  his  fears  in  a most  sensible  point,  and  laid  a foun- 
dation for  future  and  farther  treaty. 

When  he  rendered  an  account  of  his  negotiation  to  the 
Marquis,  they  both  agreed  that  the  Keeper  ought  not  to 
be  permitted  to  relapse  into  security,  and  that  he  should 
be  plied  with  new  subjects  of  alarm,  especially  during  the 
absence  of  his  lady.  They  were  well  aware  that  her 
proud,  vindictive,  and  predominating  spirit,  would  be  likely 
to  supply  him  with  the  courage  in  which  he  was  deficient 
— that  she  was  immoveably  attached  to  the  party  now  in 
power,  with  whom  she  maintained  a close  correspondence 
and  alliance,  and  that  she  hated,  without  fearing,  the 
Ravenswood  family,  (whose  more  ancient  dignity  threw 
discredit  on  the  newly  acquired  grandeur  of  her  husband,) 
to  such  a degree,  that  she  would  have  perilled  the  inter- 
est of  her  own  house,  to  have  the  prospect  of  altogether 
crushing  that  of  her  enemy. 

But  Lady  Ashton  was  now  absent.  The  business 
which  had  long  detained  her  in  Edinburgh,  had  after- 
wards induced  her  to  travel  to  London,  not  without  the 
hope  that  she  might  contribute  her  share  to  disconcert  the 
intrigues  of  the  Marquis  at  court ; for  she  stood  high  in 
favour  with  the  celebrated  Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlbo- 
rough, to  whom,  in  point  of  character,  she  bore  consider- 
able resemblance.  It  was  necessary  to  press  her  husband 
hard  before  her  return ; and,  as  a preparatory  step,  the 
Marquis  wrote  to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  the  letter 


166 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


which  we  rehearsed  in  a former  chapter.  It  was  cau- 
tiously worded,  so  as  to  leave  it  in  the  power  of  the  writer 
hereafter  to  take  as  deep,  or  as  slight  an  interest  in  the  for- 
tunes of  his  kinsman,  as  the  progress  of  his  own  schemes 
might  require.  But  however  unwilling,  as  a statesman, 
the  Marquis  might  be  to  commit  himself,  or  assume  the 
character  of  a patron,  while  he  had  nothing  to  give  away, 
it  must  be  said  to  his  honour,  that  he  felt  a strong  incli- 
nation effectually  to  befriend  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
as  well  as  to  use  his  name  as  a means  of  alarming  the 
terrors  of  the  Lord  Keeper. 

As  the  messenger  who  carried  this  letter  was  to  pass  * 
near  the  house  of  the  Lord  Keeper,  he  had  it  in  direction, 
that  in  the  village  adjoining  to  the  park  gate  of  the  cas- 
tle, his  horse  should  lose  a shoe,  and  that,  while  it  was 
replaced  by  the  smith  of  the  place,  he  should  express 
the  utmost  regret  for  the  necessary  loss  of  time,  and  in 
the  vehemence  of  his  impatience,  give  it  to  be  understood, 

that  he  was  bearing  a message  from  the  Marquis  of  A 

to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  upon  a matter  of  life  and 
death. 

This  news,  with  exaggerations,  was  speedily  carried 
from  various  quarters  to  the  ears  of  the  Lord  Keeper, 
and  each  reporter  dwelt  upon  the  extreme  impatience  of 
the  courier,  and  the  surprising  short  time  in  which  he  had 
executed  his  journey.  The  anxious  statesman  heard 
in  silence ; but  in  private  Lockhard  received  orders  to 
watch  the  courier  on  his  return,  to  way-lay  him  in  the 
village,  to  ply  him  with  liquor  if  possible,  and  to  use  all 
means  fair  or  foul  to  learn  the  contents  of  the  letter  of 
which  he  was  the  bearer.  But  as  this  plot  had  been  fore- 
seen, the  messenger  returned  by  a different  and  distant 
road,  and  thus  escaped  the  snare  that  was  laid  for  him. 

After  he  had  been  in  vain  expected  for  some  time,  Mr. 
Dingwall  had  orders  to  make  especial  inquiry  among  his 
clients  of  WolPs-hope,  whether  such  a domestic  belong- 
ing to  the  Marquis  of  A had  actually  arrived  at  the 

neighbouring  castle.  This  was  easily  ascertained  ; for 
Caleb  had  been  in  the  village  one  morning  by  five  o’clock, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


167 


to  borrow  “ twa  chappins  of  ale  and  a kipper”  for  the 
messenger’s  refreshment,  and  the  poor  fellow  had  been  ill 
for  twenty-four  hours  at  Luckie  Sma’trash’s,  in  conse- 
quence of  dining  upon  “ saut  saumon  and  sour  drink.” 
So  that  the  existence  of  a correspondence  betwixt  the 
Marquis  and  his  distressed  kinsman,  which  Sir  William 
Ashton  had  sometimes  treated  as  a bugbear,  was  proved 
beyond  the  possibility  of  further  doubt. 

The  alarm  of  the  Lord  Keeper  became  very  serious. 
Since  the  claim  of  right,  the  power  of  appealing  from 
the  decisions  of  the  civil  court  to  the  Estates  of  Parlia- 
ment, which  had  formerly  been  held  incompetent,  had 
in  many  instances  been  claimed,  and  in  some  allowed, 
and  he  had  no  small  reason  to  apprehend  the  issue,  if  the 
Scottish  Parliament  should  be  disposed  to  act  upon  the 
protestation  of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  “ for  remeid 
in  law.”  It  would  resolve  into  an  equitable  claim,  and 
be  decided,  perhaps,  upon  the  broad  principles  of  justice, 
which  were  not  quite  so  favourable  to  the  Lord  Keep- 
er as  those  of  strict  law.  Meanwhile,  every  report  which 
reached  him  served  to  render  the  success  of  the  Mar- 
quis’s intrigues  the  more  probable,  and  the  Lord  Keeper 
began  to  think  it  indispensable,  that  he  should  look  round 
for  some  kind  of  protection  against  the  coming  storm. 
The  timidity  of  his  temper  induced  him  to  adopt  meas- 
ures of  compromise  and  conciliation.  The  affair  of 
the  wild  bull,  properly  managed,  might,  he  thought,  be 
made  to  facilitate  a personal  communication  and  recon- 
ciliation betwixt  the  Master  and  himself.  He  would  then 
learn,  if  possible,  what  his  own  ideas  were  of  the  extent 
of  his  rights,  and  the  means  of  enforcing  them  ; and  per- 
haps matters  might  be  brought  to  a compromise,  where 
one  party  was  wealthy,  and  the  other  so  very  poor.  A 
reconciliation  with  Ravenswood  was  likely  to  give  him  an 
opportunity  to  play  his  own  game  with  the  Marquis  of 

A . “ And  besides,”  said  he  to  himself,  “ it  will  be 

an  act  of  generosity  to  raise  up  the  heir  of  this  distressed 
family  ; and  if  he  is  to  be  warmly  and  effectually  befriend- 


168 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ed  by  the  new  government,  who  knows  but  my  virtue 
may  prove  its  own  reward  V9  , 

Thus  thought  Sir  William  Ashton,  covering  with  no  un- 
usual self-delusion,  his  interested  views  with  a hue  of  vir- 
tue ; and  having  attained  this  point,  his  fancy  strayed  still 
further.  He  began  to  bethink  himself,  “ that  if  Ravens- 
wood  was  to  have  a distinguished  place  of  power  and  trust 
— and  if  such  a union  would  sopite  the  heavier  part  of 
his  unadjusted  claims — there  might  be  worse  matches  for 
his  daughter  Lucy — the  Master  might  be  reponed  against 
the  attainder — Lord  Ravenswood  was  an  ancient  title, 
and  the  alliance  would,  in  some  measure,  legitimate  his 
own  possession  of  the  greater  part  of  the  Master’s  spoils, 
and  make  the  surrender  of  the  rest  a subject  of  less  bitter 
regret.” 

With  these  mingled  and  multifarious  plans  occupying 
his  head,  the  Lord  Keeper  availed  himself  of  my  Lord 
Bittlebrains’  repeated  invitation  to  his  residence,  and  thus 
came  within  a very  few  miles  of  Wolf’s  Crag.  Here 
he  found  the  lord  of  the  mansion  absent,  but  was  courte- 
ously received  by  the  lady,  who  expected  her  husband’s 
immediate  return.  She  expressed  her  particular  delight 
at  seeing  Miss  Ashton,  and  appointed  the  hounds  to  be 
taken  out  for  the  Lord  Keeper’s  special  amusement.  He 
readily  entered  into  the  proposal,  as  giving  him  an  op- 
portunity to  reconnoitre  Wolf’s  Crag,  and  perhaps  to 
make  some  acquaintance  with  the  owner,  if  he  should  be 
tempted  from  his  desolate  mansion  by  the  chase.  Lock- 
hard  had  his  orders  to  endeavour  on  his  part  to  make 
some  acquaintance  with  the  inmates  of  the  castle,  and  we 
have  seen  how  he  played  his  part. 

The  accidental  storm  did  more  to  further  the  Lord 
Keeper’s  plan  of  forming  a personal  acquaintance  with 
young  Ravenswood,  than  his  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions could  have  anticipated.  His  fear  of  the  young 
nobleman’s  personal  resentment  had  greatly  decreased, 
since  he  considered  him  as  formidable  from  his  legal 
claims,  and  the  means  he  might  have  of  enforcing  them. 
But  although  he  thought,  not  unreasonably,  that  only  des- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


169 


perate  circumstances  drove  men  on  desperate  measures, 
it  was  not  without  a secret  terror,  which  shook  his  heart 
within  him,  that  he  first  felt  himself  enclosed  within  the 
desolate  tower  of  Wolf’s  Crag  ; a place  so  well  fitted, 
from  solitude  and  strength,  to  be  a scene  of  violence  and 
vengeance.  The  stern  reception  at  first  given  to  them 
by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and  the  difficulty  he  felt 
in  explaining  to  that  injured  nobleman  what  guests  were 
under  the  shelter  of  his  roof,  did  not  soothe  these  alarms  ; 
so  that  when  Sir  William  Ashton  heard  the  door  of  the 
court-yard  shut  behind  him  with  violence,  the  words  of 
Alice  rung  in  his  ears,  “ that  he  had  drawn  on  matters 
too  hardly  with  so  fierce  a race  as  those  of  Ravenswood, 
and  that  they  would  bide  their  time  to  be  avenged.” 

The  subsequent  frankness  of  the  Master’s  hospitality, 
as  their  acquaintance  increased,  abated  the  apprehen- 
sions these  recollections  were  calculated  to  excite  ; and 
it  did  not  escape  Sir  William  Ashton,  that  it  was  to  Lucy’s 
grace  and  beauty,  he  owed  the  change  in  their  host’s 
behaviour. 

All  these  thoughts  thronged  upon  him  when  he  took 
possession  of  the  secret  chamber.  The  iron  lamp,  the 
unfurnished  apartment,  more  resembling  a prison  than  a 
place  of  ordinary  repose,  the  hoarse  and  ceaseless  sound 
of  the  waves  rushing  against  the  base  of  the  rock  on  which 
the  castle  was  founded,  saddened  and  perplexed  his  mind. 
To  his  own  successful  machinations,  the  final  ruin  of  the 
family  had  been  in  a great  measure  owing,  but  his  disposi- 
tion was  crafty  and  not  cruel  ; so  that  actually  to  witness 
the  desolation  and  distress  he  had  himself  occasioned,  was 
as  painful  to  him  as  it  would  be  to  the  humane  mistress  of  a 
family  to  superintend  in  person  the  execution  of  the  lambs 
and  poultry  which  are  killed  by  her  own  directions.  At 
the  same  time,  when  he  thought  of  the  alternative,  of  re- 
storing to  Ravenswood  a large  proportion  of  his  spoils,  or 
of  adopting,  as  an  ally  and  member  of  his  own  family,  the 
heir  of  this  impoverished  house,  he  felt  as  the  spider  may 
be  supposed  to  do,  when  his  whole  web,  the  intricacies 
15  VOL.  I. 


170 


TAX&S  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


of  which  had  been  planned  with  so  much  art,  is  destroyed 
by  the  chance  sweep  of  a broom.  And  then,  if  he  should 
commit  himself  too  far  in  this  matter,  it  gave  rise  to  a per- 
ilous question,  which  many  a good  husband,  when  under 
temptation  to  act  as  a free  agent,  has  asked  himself  with- 
out being  able  to  return  a satisfactory  answer  ; “ What 
will  my  wife — what  will  Lady  Ashton  say  ?”  On  the 
whole,  he  came  at  length  to  the  resolution  in  which  minds 
of  a weaker  cast  so  often  take  refuge.  He  resolved  to 
watch  events,  to  take  advantage  of  circumstances  as  they 
occurred,  and  regulate  his  conduct  accordingly.  In  this 
spirit  of  temporizing  policy,  he  at  length  composed  his 
mind  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

“ A slight  note  I have  about  me  for  you,  for  the  delivery  of  which  you  must 
excuse  me.  It  is  an  offer  that  friendship  calls  upon  me  to  do,  and  no  way  of- 
fensive to  you,  since  I desire  nothing  but  right  upon  both  sides.” 

King  and  no  King. 

When  Ravenswood  and  his  guest  met  in  the  morning, 
the  gloom  of  the  Master’s  spirit  had  in  part  returned. 
He,  also,  had  passed  a night  rather  of  reflection  than  of 
slumber  ; and  the  feelings  which  he  could  not  but  enter- 
tain towards"  Lucy  Ashton,  had  to  support  a severe  con- 
flict against  those  which  he  had  so  long  nourished  against 
her  father.  To  clasp  in  friendship  the  hand  of  the  ene- 
my of  his  house,  to  entertain  him  under  his  roof,  to 
exchange  with  him  the  courtesies  and  the  kindness  of 
domestic  familiarity,  was  a degradation  which  his  proud 
spirit  could  not  be  bent  to  without  a struggle. 

But  the  ice  being  once  broken,  the  Lord  Keeper  was 
resolved  it  should  not  have  time  again  to  freeze.  It  had 
been  part  of  his  plan  to  stun  and  confuse  Ravenswood’s 
ideas,  by  a complicated  and  technical  statement  of  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


171 


matters  which  had  been  in  debate  betwixt  their  families, 
justly  thinking  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  a youth  of  his 
age  to  follow  the  expositions  of  a practical  lawyer,  con- 
cerning actions  of  compt  and  reckoning,  and  of  multiple 
poindings,  and  adjudication  and  wadsets,  proper  and  im- 
proper, and  poindings  of  the  ground  and  declarations  of 
the  expiry  of  the  legal.  Thus,  thought  Sir  William,  I 
shall  have  all  the  grace  of  appearing  perfectly  communi- 
cative while  my  party  will  derive  very  little  advantage 
from  anything  I may  tell  him.  He  therefore  took  Rav- 
enswood  aside  into  the  deep  recess  of  a window  in  the 
hall,  and  resuming  the  discourse  of  the  preceding  even- 
ing, expressed  a hope  that  his  young  friend  would  as- 
sume some  patience,  in  order  to  hear  him  enter  into  a 
minute  and  explanatory  detail  of  those  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstances, in  which  his  late  honourable  father  had  stood 
at  variance  with  the  Lord  Keeper.  The  Master  of  Rav- 
enswood  coloured  highly,  but  was  silent ; and  the  Lord 
Keeper,  though  not  greatly  approving  the  sudden  height- 
ening of  his  auditor’s  complexion,  commenced  the  history 
of  a bond  for  twenty  thousand  marks,  advanced  by  his 
father  to  the  father  of  Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  and  was 
proceeding  to  detail  the  executorial  proceedings  by  which 
this  large  sum  had  been  rendered  a debitum  fundi , when 
he  was  interrupted  by  the  Master. 

“ It  is  not  in  this  pla^e,”  he  said,  “ that  I can  hear 
Sir  William  Ashton’s  explanation  of  the  matters  in  ques- 
tion between  us.  It  is  not  here,  where  my  father  died 
of  a broken  heart,  that  I can  with  decency  or  temper  in- 
vestigate the  cause  of  his  distress.  1 might  remember 
that  I was  a son,  and  forget  the  duties  of  a host.  A time, 
however,  there  must  come,  when  these  things  shall  be 
discussed  in  a place  and  in  a presence  where  both  of  us 
will  have  equal  freedom  to  speak  and  to  hear.” 

“ Any  time,”  the  Lord  Keeper  said,  “ any  place  was 
alike  to  those  who  sought  nothing  but  justice.  Yet  it 
would  seem  he  was  in  fairness,  entitled  to  some  premoni- 
tion respecting  the  grounds  upon  which  the  Master  pro- 
posed to  impugn  the  whole  train  of  legal  proceedings, 


172 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


which  had  been  so  well  and  ripely  advised  in  the  only 
courts  competent.” 

“ Sir  William  Ashton,”  answered  the  Master  with 
warmth,  “ the  lands  which  you  now  occupy  were  grant- 
ed to  my  remote  ancestor  for  services  done  with  his 
sword  against  the  English  invaders.  How  they  have 
glided  from  us  by  a train  of  proceedings  that  seems  to  be 
neither  sale,  nor  mortgage,  nor  adjudication  for  debt,  but 
a non-descript  and  entangled  mixture  of  all  these  rights 
— how  annual  rent  has  been  accumulated  upon  prin- 
cipal, and  no  nook  or  coign  of  legal  advantage  left  unoc- 
cupied, until  our  interest  in  our  hereditary  property 
seems  to  have  melted  away  like  an  icicle  in  thaw — all  this 
you  understand  better  than  1 do.  I am  willing,  however, 
to  suppose,  from  the  frankness  of  your  conduct  towards 
me,  that  I may  in  a great  measure  have  mistaken  your 
character,  and  that  things  may  have  appeared  right  and 
fitting  to  you,  a skilful  and  practised  lawyer,  which  to  my 
ignorant  understanding  seem  very  little  short  of  injustice 
and  gross  oppression.” 

“ And  you,  my  dear  Master,”  answered  Sir  William, 
“ you,  permit  me  to  say,  have  been  equally  misrepresent- 
ed to  me.  I was  taught  to  believe  you  a fierce,  imperi- 
ous, hot-headed  youth,  ready,  at  the  slightest  provocation, 
to  throw  your  sword  into  the  scales  of  justice,  and  to  ap- 
peal to  those  rude  and  forcible  measures  from  which  civil 
polity  has  long  protected  the  people  of  Scotland.  Then, 
since  we  were  mutually  mistaken  in  each  other,  why  should 
not  the  young  nobleman  be  willing  to  listen  to  the  old  law- 
yer, while,  at  least,  he  explains  the  points  of  difference 
betwixt  them  V* 

“ No,  my  lord,”  answered  Ravenswood  ; “ it  is  in  the 
Estates  of  the  nation,  in  the  supreme  Court  of  Parlia- 
ment, that  we  must  parley  together.  The  belted  lords 
and  knights  of  Scotland,  her  ancient  peers  and  baronage, 
must  decide,  if  it  is  their  will  that  a house,  not  the  least 
noble  of  their  members,  shall  be  stripped  of  their  posses- 
sions, the  reward  of  the  patriotism  of  generations,  as  the 
pawn  of  a wretched  mechanic  becomes  forfeit  to  the 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


173 


usurer  the  instant  the  hour  of  redemption  has  passed  away. 
If  they  yield  to  the  grasping  severity  of  the  creditor,  and 
to  the  gnawing  usury  that  eats  into  our  lands  as  moths  into 
a raiment,  it  will  be  of  more  evil  consequence  to  them 
and  their  posterity  than  to  Edgar  Ravenswood — I shall 
still  have  my  sword  and  my  cloak,  and  can  follow  the  pro- 
fession of  arms  wherever  a trumpet  shall  sound.” 

As  he  pronounced  these  words,  in  a firm  yet  melan- 
choly tone,  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  suddenly  encountered 
those  of  Lucy  Ashton,  who  had  stolen  unawares  on  their 
interview,  and  observed  her  looks  fastened  on  them  with 
an  expression  of  enthusiastic  interest  and  admiration, 
which  had  wrapt  her  for  the  moment  beyond  the  fear  of 
discovery.  The  noble  form  and  fine  features  of  Ravens- 
wood, fired  with  the  pride  of  birth  and  sense  of  internal 
dignity — the  mellow  and  expressive  tones  of  his  voice, 
the  desolate  state  of  his  fortunes,  and  the  indifference  with 
which  he  seemed  to  endure  and  to  dare  the  worst  that 
might  befall,  rendered  him  a dangerous  object  of  contem- 
plation for  a maiden  already  too  much  disposed  to  dwell 
upon  recollections  connected  with  him.  When  their  eyes 
encountered  each  other,  both  blushed  deeply,  conscious 
of  some  strong  internal  emotion,  and  shunned  again  to 
meet  each  other’s  look. 

Sir  William  Ashton  had,  of  course,  closely  watched 
the  expression  of  their  countenances.  “ I need  fear,” 
thought  he  to  himself,  “ neither  Parliament  nor  protesta- 
tion ; I have  an  effectual  mode  of  reconciling  myself  with 
this  hot-tempered  young  fellow,  in  case  he  shall  become 
formidable.  The  present  object  is,  at  all  events,  to  avoid 
committing  ourselves.  The  hook  is  fixed  ; we  will  not 
strain  the  line  too  soon — it  is  as  well  to  reserve  the  privi- 
lege of  slipping  it  loose,  if  we  do  not  find  the  fish  worth 
landing.” 

In  this  selfish  and  cruel  calculation  upon  the  supposed 
attachment  of  Ravenswood  to  Lucy,  he  was  so  far  from 
considering  the  pain  he  might  give  to  the  former,  by  thus 
dallying  with  his  affections,  that  he  even  did  not  think 
15*  VOL.  i. 


174 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


upon  the  risk  of  involving  his  own  daughter  in  the  perils 
of  an  unfortunate  passion  ; as  if  her  predilection,  which 
could  not  escape  his  attention,  were  like  the  flame  of  a 
taper,  which  might  be  lighted  or  extinguished  at  pleasure. 
But  Providence  had  prepared  a dreadful  requital  for  this 
keen  observer  of  human  passions,  who  had  spent  his  life 
in  securing  advantages  to  himself  by  artfully  working  upon 
the  passions  of  others. 

Caleb  Balderstone  now  came  to  announce  that  break- 
fast was  prepared  ; for  in  those  days  of  substantial  feed- 
ing, the  reliques  of  the  supper  amply  furnished  forth  the 
morning  meal.  Neither  did  he  forget  to  present  to  the 
Lord  Keeper,  with  great  reverence,  a morning-draught  in 
a large  pewter  cup,  garnished  with  leaves  of  parsley  and 
scurvy-grass.  He  craved  pardon,  of  course,  for  having 
omitted  to  serve  it  in  the  great  silver  standing  cup  as  be- 
hoved, being  that  it  was  at  present  in  a silversmith’s  in 
Edinburgh,  for  the  purpose  of  being  overlaid  with  gilt. 

“ In  Edinburgh  sure  enough,”  said  Ravenswood  ; 
‘c  but  in  what  place,  or  for  what  purpose,  I am  afraid 
neither  you  nor  I know.” 

“ Aweel  !”  said  Caleb  peevishly,  “ there’s  a man 
standing  at  the  gate  already  this  morning — that’s  ae  thing 
that  I ken — Does  your  honour  ken  whether  ye  will  speak 
wi’  him  or  no 

“ Does  he  wish  to  speak  with  me,  Caleb 

“ Less  will  no  serve  him,”  said  Caleb  ; “ but  ye  had 
best  take  a visie  of  him  through  the  wicket  before  opening 
the  gate — it’s  no  every  ane  we  suld  let  into  this  castle.” 

“ What  ! do  you  suppose  him  to  be  a messenger  come 
to  arrest  me  for  debt  9”  said  Ravenswood. 

“ A messenger  arrest  your  honour  for  debt,  and  in 
your  Castle  of  Wolf’s  Crag  ! — Your  honour  is  jesting  wi’ 
auld  Caleb  this  morning.”  However,  he  whispered  in 
his  ear  as  he  followed  him  out,  “ 1 would  be  loth  to  do 
ony  decent  man  a prejudice  in  your  honour’s  gude  opin- 
ion ; but  1 would  tak  twa  looks  o’  that  chield  before  I let 
him  within  these  walls.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


175 


He  was  not  an  officer  of  the  law,  however  ; being  no 
less  a person  than  Captain  Craigengelt,  with  his  nose  as 
red  as  a comfortable  cup  of  brandy  could  make  it,  his 
laced  cocked-hat  set  a little  aside  upon  the  top  of  his 
black  riding  periwig,  a sword  by  his  side,  and  pistols  at 
his  holsters,  and  his  person  arrayed  in  a riding  suit,  laid 
over  with  tarnished  lace, — the  very  moral  of  one  who 
would  say,  Stand,  to  a true  man. 

When  the  Master  had  recognized  him,  he  ordered  the 
gates  to  be  opened. ^ “ I suppose,”  he  said,  “ Captain 
Craigengelt,  there  are  no  such  weighty  matters  betwixt 
you  and  me,  but  what  may  be  discussed  in  this  place.  I 
have  company  in  the  castle  at  present,  and  the  terms 
upon  which  we  last  parted  must  excuse  my  asking  you 
to  make  part  of  them.” 

Craigengelt,  although  possessing  the  very  perfection  of 
impudence,  was  somewhat  abashed  by  this  unfavourable 
reception.  “ He  had  no  intention,”  he  said,  “ to  force 
himself  upon  the  Master  of  Ravenswood’s  hospitality — 
he  was  in  the  honourable  service  of  bearing  a message 
to  him  from  a friend,  otherwise  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  should  not  have  had  reason  to  complain  of  this 
intrusion.” 

“ Let  it  be  short,  sir,”  said  the  Master,  “ for  that  will 
be  the  best  apology.  Who  is  the  gentleman  who  is  so 
fortunate  as  to  have  your  services  as  a messenger  9” 

“ My  friend  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,”  answered 
Craigengelt,  with  conscious  importance,  and  that  confi- 
dence which  the  acknowledged  courage  of  his  principal 
inspired,  “ who  conceives  himself  to  have  been  treated 
by  you  with  something  much  short  of  the  respect  which 
he  had  reason  to  demand,  and  therefore  is  resolved  to 
exact  satisfaction.  I bring  with  me,”  said  he,  taking  a 
piece  of  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  “ the  precise  length  of 
his  sword  ; and  he  requests  you  will  meet  him,  accompa- 
nied by  a friend,  and  equally  armed,  at  any  place  within 
a mile  of  the  castle,  when  1 shall  give  attendance  as  um- 
pire or  second  on  his  behoof.” 


J 76 


TAXES  OF  MY  XANDXORD. 


“ Satisfaction — and  equal  arms  !”  repeated  Ravens- 
wood,  who,  the  reader  will  recollect,  had  no  reason  to 
suppose  he  had  given  the  slightest  offence  to  his  late  in- 
mate— “ upon  my  word,  Captain  Craigengelt,  either  you 
have  invented  the  most  improbable  falsehood  that  ever 
came  into  the  mind  of  such  a person,  or  your  morning- 
draught  has  been  somewhat  of  the  strongest.  What 
could  persuade  Bucklaw  to  send  mo  such  a message  V’ 

“ For  that,  sir,”  replied  Craigengelt,  “ I am  desired 
to  refer  you  to  what,  in  duty  to  mysfriend,  I am  to  term 
your  inhospitality  in  excluding  him  from  your  house, 
without  reasons  assigned.” 

“ It  is  impossible,”  replied  the  Master  ; “ he  cannot 
be  such  a fool  as  to  interpret  actual  necessity  as  an  insult. 
Nor  do  I believe,  that,  knowing  my  opinion  of  you,  cap- 
tain, he  would  have  employed  the  services  of  so  slight 
and  inconsiderable  a person  as  yourself  upon  such  an 
errand,  as  I certainly  could  expect  no  man  of  honour  to 
act  with  you  in  the  office  of  umpire.” 

“ I slight  and  inconsiderable  !”  said  Craigengelt,  rais- 
ing his  voice,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  cutlass  ; “ if  it 
were  not  that  the  quarrel  of  my  friend  craves  the  prece- 
dence, and  is  in  dependence  before  my  own,  I would 
give  you  to  understand” 

“ I can  understand  nothing  upon  your  explanation, 
Captain  Craigengelt.  Be  satisfied  of  that,  and  oblige 
me  with  your  departure.” 

“ D n !”  muttered  the  bully  ; “ and  is  this  the 

answer  which  I am  to  carry  back  to  an  honourable  mes- 
sage (?” 

“ Tell  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw,”  answered  Ravenswood, 
“ if  you  are  really  sent  by  him,  that  when  he  sends  me 
his  cause  of  grievance  by  a person  fitting  to  carry  such 
an  errand  betwixt  him  and  me,  I will  either  explain  it  or 
maintain  it.” 

“ Then,  Master,  you  will  at  least  cause  to  be  returned 
to  Hayston,  by  my  hands,  his  property  which  is  remain- 
ing in  your  possession.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


177 


“ Whatever  property  Bueklaw  may  have  left  behind 
him,  sir,”  replied  the  Master,  “ shall  be  returned  to  him 
by  my  servant,  as  you  do  not  show  me  any  credentials 
from  him  which  entitle  you  to  receive  it.” 

“ Well,  Master,”  said  Captain  Craigengelt,  with  mal- 
ice which  even  his  fear  of  the  consequences  could  not 
suppress  ; “ you  have  this  morning  done  me  an  egregious 
wrong  and  dishonour,  but  far  more  to  yourself.  A castle 
indeed  7”  he  continued,  looking  around  him  ; “ why 
this  is  worse  than  a coupe-gorge  house,  where  they  re- 
ceive travellers  to  plunder  them  of  their  property.” 

“ You  insolent  rascal,”  said  the  Master,  raising  his 
cane,  and  making  a grasp  at  the  captain’s  bridle,  “ if  you 
do  not  depart  without  uttering  another  syllable,  I will 
batoon  you  to  death.” 

At  the  motion  of  the  Master  towards  him,  the  bully 
turned  so  rapidly  round,  that  with  some  difficulty  he  es- 
caped throwing  down  his  horse,  whose  hoofs  struck  fire 
from  the  rocky  pavement  in  every  direction.  Recovering 
him,  however,  with  the  bridle,  he  pushed  for  the  gate,  and 
rode  sharply  back  again  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 

As  Ravenswood  turned  round  to  leave  the  court-yard 
after  this  dialogue,  he  found  that  the  Lord  Keeper  had 
descended  from  the  hall,  and  witnessed,  though  at  the 
distance  prescribed  by  politeness,  his  interview  with 
Craigengelt. 

“ I have  seen,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ that  gentle- 
man’s face,  and  at  no  great  distance  of  time — his  name 
is  Craig — Craig — something,  is  it  not  9” 

“ Craigengelt  is  the  fellow’s  name,”  said  the  Master, 
“ at  least  that  by  which  he  passes  at  present.” 

“ Craig-in-guilt,”  said  Caleb,  punning  upon  the  word 
craig , which  in  Scotch  signifies  throat  ; “ if  he  is  Craig- 
in-guilt  just  now,  he  is  as  likely  to  be  Craig-in-peril  as 
ony  chield  I ever  saw — the  loon  has  woodie  written  on 
his  very  visnomy,  and  I wad  wager  twa  and  a plack  that 
hemp  plaits  his  cravat  yet.” 

“ You  understand  physiognomy,  good  Mr.  Caleb,” 
said  the  Keeper,  smiling  ; “ I assure  you  the  gentleman 


178 


TALES  OF  MV  LANDLORD. 


has  been  near  such  a consummation  before  now — for  1 
most  distinctly  recollect,  that,  upon  occasion  of  a journey 
which  I made  about  a fortnight  ago  to  Edinburgh  I saw 
Mr.  Craigengelt,  or  whatever  is  his  name,  undergo  a se- 
vere examination  before  the  Privy-Council.” 

“ Upon  what  account  7”  said  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood,  with  some  interest. 

The  question  led  immediately  to  a tale  which  the  Lord 
Keeper  had  been  very  anxious  to  introduce,  when  he 
could  find  a graceful  and  fitting  opportunity.  He  took 
hold  of  the  Master’s  arm,  and  led  him  back  towards  the 
hall.  “ The  answer  to  your  question,”  he  said,  “ though 
it  is  a ridiculous  business,  is  only  fit  for  your  own  ear.” 

As  they  entered  the  hall,  he  again  took  the  Master 
apart  into  one  of  the  recesses  of  the  window,  where  it 
will  be  easily  believed  that  Miss  Ashton  did  not  venture 
again  to  intrude  upon  their  conference. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


Here  is  a father  now, 

Will  truck  his  daughter  for  a foreign  venture, 

Make  her  the  stop-gap  to  some  cankered  feud, 

Or  fling  her  o'er,  like  Jonah,  to  the  fishes, 

To  appease  the  sea  at  highest. 

Anonymous. 

The  Lord  Keeper  opened  his  communication  with  an 
appearance  of  unconcern,  marking,  however,  very  care- 
fully, the  effect  of  his  communication  upon  young  Rav- 
eriswood. 

“ You  are  aware,”  he  said,  “ my  young  friend,  that 
suspicion  is  the  natural  vice  of  our  unsettled  times,  and 
exposes  the  best  and  wisest  of  us  to  the  imposition  of 
artful  rascals.  If  I had  been  disposed  to  listen  to  such 
the  other  day,  or  even  if  I had  been  the  wily  politician 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


179 


which  you  have  been  taught  to  believe  me,  you,  Master 
of  Ravenswood,  instead  of  being  at  freedom,  and  with 
full  liberty  to  solicit  and  act  against  me  as  you  please,  in 
defence  of  what  you  suppose  to  be  your  rights,  would  have 
been  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh,  or  some  other  state  pris- 
on ; or,  if  you  had  escaped  that  destiny,  it  must  have 
been  by  flight  to  a foreign  country,  and  at  the  risk  of  a 
sentence  of  fugitation.” 

“ My  Lord  Keeper,”  said  the  Master,  “ I think  you 
would  not  jest  on  such  a subject — yet  it  seems  impossible 
you  can  be  in  earnest.” 

“ Innocence,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ is  also  confi- 
dent, and  sometimes,  though  very  excusably,  presumptu- 
ously so.” 

“ 1 do  not  understand,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ how  a 
consciousness  of  innocence  can  be,  in  any  case,  account- 
ed presumptuous.” 

“ Imprudent,  at  least,  it  maybe  called,”  said  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton,  “ since  it  is  apt  to  lead  us  into  the  mistake 
of  supposing  that  sufficiently  evident  to  others,  of  which, 
in  fact,  we  are  only  conscious  ourselves.  I have  known 
a rogue,  for  this  very  reason,  make  a better  defence  than 
an  innocent  man  could  have  done  in  the  same  circum- 
stances of  suspicion.  Having  no  consciousness  of  inno- 
cence to  support  him,  such  a fellow  applies  himself  to  all 
the  advantages  which  the  law  will  afford  him,  and  some- 
times (if  his  counsel  be  men  of  talent,)  succeeds  in  com- 
pelling his  judges  to  receive  him  as  innocent.  I remem- 
ber the  celebrated  case  of  Sir  Coolie  Condiddle  of 
Condiddle,  who  was  tried  for  theft  under  trust,  of  which 
all  the  world  knew  him  guilty,  and  yet  was  not  only  ac- 
quitted, but  lived  to  sit  in  judgment  on  honester  folk.” 

“ Allow  me  to  beg  you  will  return  to  the  point,”  said 
the  Master  ; “ you  seemed  to  say  that  I had  suffered 
under  some  suspicion.”  , 

“ Suspicion,  Master  ^ — ay,  truly — and  I can  show  you 
the  proofs  of  it  ; if  I happen  only  to  have  them  with  me. 
Here,  Lockhard” — His  attendant  came — “ Fetch  me  the 


180 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


little  private  mail  with  the  padlocks,  that  I recommended 
to  your  particular  charge — d’ye  hear  9” 

“ Yes,  my  lord.”  Lockhard  vanished  ; and  the 
Keeper  continued  as  if  half  speaking  to  himself. 

“ I think  the  papers  are  with  me- — 1 think  so,  for  as  I 
was  to  be  in  this  country,  it  was  natural  for  me  to  bring 
them  with  me.  I have  them,  however,  at  Ravenswood 
Castle,  that  I am  sure  of — so  perhaps  you  might  conde- 
scend”— 

Here  Lockhard  entered,  and  put  the  leathern  scru- 
toire,  or  mail-box,  into  his  hands.  The  Keeper  produc- 
ed one  or  two  papers,  respecting  the  information  laid 
before  the  Privy-Council,  concerning  the  riot,  as  it  was 
termed,  at  the  funeral  of  Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  and 
the  active  share  he  had  himself  taken  in  quashing  the 
proceedings  against  the  Master.  These  documents  had 
been  selected  with  care,  so  as  to  irritate  the  natural  curi- 
osity of  Ravenswood  upon  such  a subject,  without  grati- 
fying it,  yet  to  show  that  Sir  William  Ashton  had  acted 
upon  that  trying  occasion  the  part  of  an  advocate  and 
peace-maker  betwixt  him  and  the  jealous  authorities  of 
the  day.  Having  furnished  his  host  with  such  subjects 
for  examination,  the  Lord  Keeper  went  to  the  breakfast- 
table,  and  entered  into  light  conversation,  addressed  part- 
ly to  old  Caleb,  whose  resentment  against  the  usurper  of 
the  Castle  of  Ravenswood  began  to  be  softened  by  his 
familiarity,  and  partly  to  his  daughter. 

After  perusing  these  papers,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
remained  for  a minute  or  two  with  his  hand  pressed  against 
his  brow,  in  deep  and  profound  meditation.  He  then 
again  ran  his  eye  hastily  over  the  papers,  as  if  desirous 
of  discovering  in  them  some  deep  purpose,  or  some  mark 
of  fabrication,  which  had  escaped  him  at  first  perusal. 
Apparently  the  second  reading  confirmed  the  opinion 
which  had  pressed  upon  him  at  the  first,  for  he  started 
from  the  stone-bench  on  which  he  was  sitting,  and,  going 
to  the  Lord  Keeper,  took  his  hand,  and,  strongly  pressing 
it,  asked  his  pardon  repeatedly  for  the  injustice  he  had 
done  him,  when  it  appeared  he  was  experiencing,  at  his 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


181 


bands,  the  benefit  of  protection  to  his  person,  and  vindi- 
cation to  his  character. 

The  statesman  received  these  acknowledgments  at  first 
with  well-feigned  surprise,  and  then  with  an  affectation  of 
frank  cordiality.  The  tears  began  already  to  start  from 
Lucy’s  blue  eyes  at  viewing  this  unexpected  and  moving 
scene.  To  see  the  Master,  late  so  haughty  and  reserved, 
and  whom  she  had  always  supposed  the  injured  person, 
supplicating  her  father  for  forgiveness,  was  a change  at 
once  surprising,  flattering,  and  affecting. 

“ Dry  your  eyes,  Lucy,”  said  her  father  ; “ why  should 
you  weep,  because  your  father,  though  a lawyer,  is  dis- 
covered to  be  a fair  and  honourable  man  9 — What  have 
you  to  thank  me  for,  my  dear  Master,”  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing Ravenswood,  “ that  you  would  not  have  done  in 
my  case  9 c Suum  cuique  tribuitoS  was  the  Roman  justice, 
and  I learned  it  when  1 studied  Justinian.  Besides,  have 
you  not  overpaid  me  a thousand  times  in  saving  the  life 
of  this  dear  child  VJ 

“ Yes,”  answered  the  Master,  in  all  the  remorse  of  self- 
accusation ; “ but  the  little  service  I did  was  an  act  of 
mere  brutal  instinct  ; your  defence  of  my  cause,  when 
you  knew  how  ill  I thought  of  you,  and  how  much  I was 
disposed  to  be  your  enemy,  was  an  act  of  generous,  man- 
ly, and  considerate  wisdom.” 

“ Pshaw  !”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ each  of  us  acted 
in  his  own  way  ; you  as  a gallant  soldier,  I as  an  upright 
judge  and  privy-counsellor.  We  could  not,  perhaps,  have 
changed  parts — at  Jeast  I should  have  made  a very  sorry 
Tauridor , and  you,  my  good  Master,  though  your  cause  is 
so  excellent,  might  have  pleaded  it  perhaps  worse  your- 
selfjthanlwho  acted  as  your  advocate  before  the  council.” 

“ My  generous  friend  !”  said  Ravenswood  and  with 
that  brief  word,  which  the  Keeper  had  often  lavished  on 
him,  but  which  he  himself  now  pronounced  for  the  first 
time,  he  gave  to  his  feudal  enemy  the  full  confidence  of 
an  haughty  but  honourable  heart.  He  had  been  remark- 
ed among  his  contemporaries  for  sense  and  acuteness,  as 
16  VOL.  I. 


182 


TAXES  OF  MY  XANDXORD. 


well  as  for  his  reserved,  pertinacious,  and  irascible  char- 
acter. His  prepossessions  accordingly,  however  obsti- 
nate, were  of  a nature  to  give  way  before  love  and  grati- 
tude ; and  the  real  charms  of  the  daughter,  joined  to  the 
supposed  services  of  the  father,  cancelled  in  his  memory 
the  vows  of  vengeance  which  he  had  taken  so  deeply  on 
the  eve  of  his  father’s  funeral.  But  they  had  been  heard 
and  registered  in  the  book  of  fate. 

Caleb  was  present  at  this  singular  scene,  and  he 
could  conceive  no  other  reason  for  a proceeding  so  ex- 
traordinary than  an  alliance  betwixt  the  houses,  and  Ra- 
venswood  Castle  assigned  for  the  young  lady’s  dowry. 
As  for  Lucy,  when  Ravenswood  uttered  the  most  passion- 
ate excuses  for  his  ungrateful  negligence,  she  could  but 
smile  through  her  tears,  and,  as  she  abandoned  her  hand 
to  him,  assure  him,  in  broken  accents,  of  the  delight  with 
which  she  beheld  the  complete  reconciliation  between  her 
father  and  her  deliverer.  Even  the  statesman  was  moved 
and  affected  by  the  fiery,  unreserved,  and  generous  self- 
abandonment  with  which  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  re- 
nounced his  feudal  enmity,  and  threw  himself  without 
hesitation  upon  his  forgiveness.  His  eyes  glistened  as  he 
looked  upon  a couple  who  were  obviously  becoming  at- 
tached, and  who  seemed  made  for  each  other.  He 
thought  how  high  the  proud  and  chivalrous  character  of 
Ravenswood  might  rise  under  many  circumstances,  in 
which  he  found  himself  “ over-crowed,”  to  use  a phrase 
of  Spencer,  and  kept  under,  by  his  brief  pedigree,  and 
timidity  of  disposition.  Then  his  daughter — his  favourite 
child— his  constant  play-mate — seemed  formed  to  live 
happy  in  a union  with  such  a commanding  spirit  as  Ra- 
venswood ; and  even  the  fine,  delicate,  fragile  form  of 
Lucy  Ashton  seemed  to  require  the  support  of  the  Mas- 
ter’s muscular  strength  and  masculine  character.  And  it 
was  not  merely  during  a few  minutes  that  Sir  William 
Ashton  looked  upon  their  marriage  as  a probable  and  even 
desirable  event,  for  a full  hour  intervened  ere  his  imagina- 
tion was  crossed  by  recollection  of  the  Master’s  poverty, 
and  the  certain  displeasure  of  Lady  Ashton.  It  is  cer- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


183 


tain,  that  the  very  unusual  flow  of  kindly  feeling  with  which 
the  Lord  Keeper  had  been  thus  surprised,  was  one  of  the 
circumstances  which  gave  much  tacit  encouragement  to 
the  attachment  between  the  Master  and  his  daughter,  and 
led  both  the  lovers  distinctly  to  believe  that  it  was  a con- 
nection which  would  be  most  agreeable  to  him.  He  him- 
self was  supposed  to  have  admitted  this  effect,  when,  long 
after  the  catastrophe  of  their  love,  he  used  to  warn  his 
hearers  against  permitting  their  feelings  to  obtain  an  as- 
cendancy over  their  judgment,  and  affirm  that  the  great- 
est misfortune  of  his  life  was  owing  to  a very  temporary 
predominance  of  sensibility  over  self-interest.  It  must  be 
owned,  if  such  was  the  case,  he  was  long  and  severely 
punished  for  an  offence  of  very  brief  duration. 

After  some  pause,  the  Lord  Keeper  resumed  the  con- 
versation.~u  In  your  surprise  at  finding  me  an  honester 
man  than  you  expected,  you  have  lost  your  curiosity  about 
this  Craigengelt,  my  good  Master  ; and  yet  your  name 
was  brought  in  in  the  course  of  that  matter  too.” 

“ The  scoundrel  !”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ my  connec- 
tion with  him  was  of  the  most  temporary  nature  possible  y 
and  yet  I was  very  foolish  to  hold  any  communication  with 
him  at  all, — What  did  he  say  of  me  *?” 

“ Enough,”  said  the  Keeper,  “ to  excite  the  very  loyal 
terrors  of  some  of  our  sages,  who  are  for  proceeding 
against  men  on  the  mere  grounds  of  suspicion  or  merce- 
nary information. — Some  nonsense  about  your  proposing 
to  enter  into  the  service  of  France,  or  of  the  Pretender, 

I don’t  recollect  which,  but  which  the  Marquis  of  A- , 

one  of  your  best  friends,  and  another  person,  one  of  your 
worst  and  most  interested  enemies,  could  not,  some  how, 
be  brought  to  listen  to.” 

“ I am  obliged  to  my  honourable  friend — and  yet” — 
shaking  the  Lord  Keeper’s  hand — “ and  yet  I am  still 
more  obliged  to  my  honourable  enemy.” 

“ Inimicus  amicissimus ,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  return- 
ing the  pressure  ; “ but  this  gentleman — this  Mr.  Hay- 
ston  of  Bucklaw — 1 am  afraid  the  poor  young  man — I 


i 84 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


heard  the  fellow  mention  his  name — is  under  very  bad 
guidance.” 

“ He  is  old  enough  to  govern  himself,”  answered  the 
Master. 

“ Old  enough,  perhaps,  but  scarce  wise  enough,  if  he 
has  chosen  this  fellow  for  his  jidus  Achates.  Why,  he 
lodged  an  information  against  him — that  is,  such  a conse- 
quence might  have  ensued  from  his  examination,  had  we 
not  looked  rather  at  the  character  of  the  witness  than  the 
tenor  of  his  evidence.” 

“ Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw,”  said  the  Master,  “ is,  I 
believe,  a most  honourable  man,  and  capable  of  nothing 
that  is  mean  or  disgraceful.” 

“ Capable  of  much  that  is  unreasonable  though,  that 
you  must  needs  allow,  Master.  Death  will  soon  put  him 
in  possession  of  a fair  estate,  if  he  hath  it  not  already  ; 
old  Lady  Girnington — an  excellent  person,  excepting  that 
her  inveterate  ill-nature  rendered  her  intolerable  to  the 
whole  world — is  probably  dead  by  this  time.  Six  heirs 
portioners  have  successively  died  to  make  her  Wealthy. 
1 know  the  estates  well  ; they  march  with  my  own — a 
noble  property.” 

“ I am  glad  of  it,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ and  should  be 
more  so,  were  I confident  that  Bucklaw  would  change  his 
company  and  habits  with  his  fortunes.  This  appearance 
of  Craigengelt,  acting  in  the  capacity  of  his  friend,  is  a 
most  vile  augury  for  his  future  respectability.” 

“ He  is  a bird  of  evil  omen,  to  be  sure,”  said  the  Keep- 
er, “ and  croaks  of  jail  and  gallows-tree. — But  I see  Mr. 
Caleb  grows  impatient  for  our  return  to  breakfast.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


185 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Sir,  stay  at  home  and  take  an  old  man’s  counsel  ; 

* Seek  not  to  bask  you  by  a stranger’s  hearth  ; 

Our  own  blue  smoke  is  warmer  than  their  fire. 

Domestic  food  is  wholesome,  though  ’tis  homely, 

And  foreign  dainties  poisonous,  though  tasteful. 

The  French  Courtezan. 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  took  an  opportunity  to 
leave  his  guests  to  prepare  for  their  departure,  while  he 
himself  made  the  brief  arrangements  necessary  previous  to 
his  absence  from  Wolf’s  Crag  for  a day  or  two.  It  was  ne- 
cessary to  communicate  with  Caleb  on  this  occasion,  and 
he  found  that  faithful  servitor  in  his  sooty  and  ruinous  den, 
greatly  delighted  with  the  departure  of  their  visiters,  and 
computing  how  long,  with  good  management,  the  provis- 
ions which  had  been  unexpended  might  furnish  forth  the 
Master’s  table.  “ He’s  nae  belly  god,  that’s  ae  blessing  ; 
and  Bucklaw’s  gane,  that  could  have  eaten  a horse  behind 
the  saddle.  Cresses  or  water-purpie,  and  a bit  ait-cake, 
can  serve  the  Master  for  breakfast  as  weel  as  Caleb. 
Then  for  dinner — there’s  no  muckle  left  on  the  spule- 
bane  ; it  will  brander  though — it  will  brander  very  weel.” 

His  triumphant  calculations  were  interrupted  by  the 
Master,  who  communicated  to  him,  not  without  some  hes- 
itation, his  purpose  to  ride  with  the  Lord  Keeper  as  far  as 
Ravenswood  Castle,  and  to  remain  there  for  a day  or  two. 

“ The  mercy  of  Heaven  forbid  !”  said  the  old  serving- 
man,  turning  as  pale  as  the  table-cloth  which  he  was  fold- 
ing up. 

“ And  why,  Caleb  9”  said  his  Master,  “ why  should 
the  mercy  of  Heaven  forbid  my  returning  the  Lord  Keep- 
er’s visit  9” 

“ Oh,  sir  !”  replied  Caleb — “ O Mr.  Edgar  ! I am 
your  servant,  and  it  ill  becomes  me  to  speak — but  I am  an 

16*  VOL.  I. 


186 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD* 


auld  servant — have  served  baith  your  father  and  goodsire, 
and  mind  to  have  seen  Lord  Randal,  your  great-grand- 
father— but  that  was  when  I was  a bairn.” 

“ And  what  of  all  this,  Balderstone  9”  answered  the 
Master  ; “ what  can  it  possibly  have  to  do  with  my  pay- 
ing some  ordinary  civility  to  a neighbour  9” 

“ O Mr.  Edgar, — that  is,  my  lord  !” — answered  the 
Butler,  “ your  ain  conscience  tells  you  it  isna  for  your 
father’s  son  to  be  neighbouring  wi’  the  like  o’  him — it  isna 
for  the  credit  of  the  family.  An  he  were  ance  come  to 
terms,  and  to  gi’e  ye  back  your  ain,  e’en  though  ye  suld 
honour  his  house  wi’  your  alliance,  I suldna  say  na — for 
the  young  leddy  is  a winsome  sweet  creature — But  keep 
your  ain  state  wi’  them — I ken  the  race  o’  them  weel — 
they  will  think  the  mair  o’  ye.” 

“ Why,  now,  you  go  farther  than  I do,  Caleb,”  said  the 
Master,  drowning  a certain  degree  of  consciousness  in  a 
forced  laugh  ; “ you  are  for  marrying  me  into  a family 
that  you  will  not  allow  me  to  visit — how’s  this  9 — and  you 
look  as  pale  as  death  besides.” 

“ O,  sir,”  repeated  Caleb  again,  “ you  would  but  laugh 
if  I tauld  it  ; but  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  whose  tongue 
couldna  be  fause,  spoke  the  word  of  your  house  that  will 
e’en  prove  ower  true  if  you  go  to  Ravenswood  this  day — - 
O that  it  should  e’er  have  been  fulfilled  in  my  time  !” 

“ And  what  is  it,  Caleb  9”  said  Ravenswood,  wishing 
to  soothe  the  fears  of  his  old  servant. 

„ Caleb  replied,  “ he  had  never  repeated  the  lines  to  liv- 
ing mortal — they  were  told  to  him  by  an  auld  priest  that 
had  been  confessor  to  Lord  Allan’s  father  when  the  family 
were  catholic.  But  mony  a time,”  he  said,  “ I hae  sough- 
ed thae  dark  words  ower  to  mysell,  and  well-a-day  ! little 
did  I think  of  their  coming  round  this  day.” 

“ Truce  with  your  nonsense,  and  let  me  hear  the  dog- 
grel  which  has  put  it  into  your  head,”  said  the  Master 
impatiently. 

With  a quavering  voice,  and  a cheek  pale  with  appre- 
hension, Caleb  faltered  out  the  following  lines  : — 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


187 


il  When  the  last  Laird  of  Ravenswood  to  Ravenswood  shall  ride. 

And  wooe  a dead  maiden  to  be  his  bride, 

He  shall  stable  his  steed  in  the  Kelpie’s  flow, 

And  his  name  shall  be  lost  for  evermoe  !” 

“ I know  the  Kelpie’s  flow  well  enough,”  said  the  Mas- 
ter ; “ I suppose,  at  least,  you  mean  the  quick-sand  be- 
twixt this  tower  and  Wolf’s-hope  ; but  why  any  man  in 
his  senses  should  stable  a steed  there” 

“ O never  speer  ony  thing  about  that,  sir — God  forbid 
we  should  ken  what  the  prophecy  means — but  just  bide 
you  at  hame,  and  let  the  strangers  ride  to  Ravenswood 
by  themselves.  We  have  done  eneugh  for  them  ; and  to 
do  mair,  would  be  rather  against  the  credit  of  the  family 
than  in  its  favour.” 

“ Well,  Caleb,”  said  the  Master,  “ I give  you  the  best 
possible  credit  for  your  good  advice  on  this  occasion  ; but 
as  I do  not  go  to  Ravenswood  to  seek  a bride,  dead  or 
alive,  I hope  I shall  choose  a better  stable  for  my  horse 
than  the  Kelpie’s  quick-sand,  and  especially  as  I have  al- 
ways had  a particular  dread  of  it  since  the  patrole  of  dra- 
goons were  lost  there  ten  years  since.  My  father  and  I 
saw  them  from  the  tower  struggling  against  the  advancing 
tide,  and  they  were  lost  long  before  any  help  could  reach 
them.” 

“ And  they  deserved  it  weel,  the  southern  loons,”  said 
Caleb ; “ what  had  they  ado  capering  on  our  sands,  and 
hindering  a wheen  honest  folk  frae  bringing  on  shore  a 
drap  brandy  °l  I hae  seen  them  that  busy,  that  I wad  hae 
fired  the  auld  culverin,  or  the  demisaker  that’s  on  the 
south  bartizan  at  them,  only  I was  feared  they  might  burst 
in  the  ganging  off.” 

Caleb’s  brain  was  now  fully  engaged  with  abuse  of  the 
English  soldiery  and  excisemen,  so  that  his  master  found 
no  great  difficulty  in  escaping  from  him  and  rejoining  his 
guests.  All  was  now  ready  for  their  departure  ; and  one 
of  the  Lord  Keeper’s  grooms  having  saddled  the  Master’s 
steed,  they  mounted  in  the  court-yard. 

Caleb  had,  with  much  toil,  opened  the  double  doors  of 
the  outward  gate,  and  thereat  stationed  himself,  endeav- 


188 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ouring,  by  the  reverential,  and,  at  the  same  time,  conse- 
quential air  which  he  assumed,  to  supply,  by  his  own 
gaunt,  wasted,  and  thin  person,  the  absence  of  a whole 
baronial  establishment  of  porters,  warders,  and  liveried 
menials. 

The  Keeper  returned  his  deep  reverence  with  a cor- 
dial farewell,  stooping  at  the  same  time  from  his  horse, 
and  sliding  into  the  Butler’s  hand  the  remuneration,  which 
in  those  days  was  always  given  by  a departing  guest  to 
the  domestics  of  the  family  where  he  had  been  entertain- 
ed. Lucy  smiled  on  the  old  man  with  her  usual  sweet- 
ness, bade  him  adieu,  and  deposited  her  guerdon  with  a 
grace  of  action,  and  a gentleness  of  accent,  which  could 
not  have  failed  to  have  won  the  faithful  retainer’s  heart, 
but  for  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  and  the  successful  law-suit 
against  his  master.  As  it  was,  he  might  have  adopted  the 
language  of  the  Duke,  in  As  you  like  it — 

u rnhou  wouldst  have  better  pleased  me  with  this  deed, 

T .nou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father.?; 

Rave.jswood  was  at  the  lady’s  bridle-rein,  encouraging 
her  timidity,  and  guiding  her  horse  carefully  down  the 
rocky  path  which  led  to  the  moor,  when  one  of  the  ser- 
vants announced  from  the  rear  that  Caleb  was  calling  loudly 
after  them,  desiring  to  speak  with  his  master.  Ravens- 
wood  felt  it  would  look  singular  to  neglect  this  summons, 
although  inwardly  cursing  Caleb  for  his  impertinent  offi- 
ciousness ; therefore  he  was  compelled  to  relinquish  to 
Mr.  Lock  hard  the  agreeable  duty  in  which  he  was  engag- 
ed, and  to  ride  back  to  the  gate  of  the  court-yard.  Here 
he  was  beginning,  somewhat  peevishly,  to  ask  Caleb  the 
cause  of  his  clamour,  when  the  good  old  man  exclaimed, 
“ Whisht,  sir  ! whisht,  and  let  me  speak  just  ae  word  that 
I couldna  say  afore  folk — there” — (putting  into  his  lord’s 
hand  the  money  he  had  just  received) — “ there’s  three 
gowd  pieces — and  ye’ll  want  siller  up-bye  yonder — but 
stay,  whisht  now  !” — for  the  Master  was  beginning  to  ex- 
claim against  this  transference — u never  say  a word,  but 
just  see  to  get  them  changed  in  the  first  town  ye  ride 


THE  BRIDE  0E  IAMMERMOOR. 


189 


through,  for  they  are  bran  new  frae  the  mint,  and  ken- 
speckle  a wee  bit.” 

“ You  forget,  Caleb,”  said  his  master,  striving  to  force 
back  the  money  on  his  servant,  and  extricate  the  bridle 
from  his  hold — “ You  forget  that  1 have  some  gold  pieces 
left  of  my  own.  Keep  these  to  yourself  my  old  friend  ; 
and,  once  more,  good  day  to  you.  I assure  you  I have 
plenty.  You  know  you  have  managed  that  our  living 
should  cost  us  little  or  nothing.” 

“ Aweel,”  said  Caleb,  “ these  will  serve  you  another 
time  ; but  see  ye  hae  aneugh,  for,  doubtless,  for  the  credit 
of  the  family,  there  maun  be  some  civility  to  the  servants, 
and  ye  maun  hae  something  to  mak  a show  with  when 
they  say,  Master,  will  you  bet  a broad  piece  Then  ye 
maun  tak  out  your  purse,  and  say,  I carena  if  I do  ; and 
tak  care  no  to  agree  on  the  articles  of  the  wager,  and  just 

put  up  your  purse  again,  and” — 

“ This  is  intolerable,  Caleb — I really  must  be  gone.” 
“ And  you  will  go  then  V9  said  Caleb,  loosening  his 
hold  upon  the  Master’s  cloak,  and  changing  his  didactics 
into  a pathetic  and  mournful  tone — “ And  you  will  go, 
for  a5  I have  told  you  about  the  prophecy,  and  the  dead 
bride,  and  the  Kelpie’s  quicksand  — Aweel  ! a wilful 
man  maun  hae  his  way — he  that  will  to  Cupar  maun  to 
Cupar.  But  pity  of  your  life,  sir,  if  ye  be  fowling  or 
shooting  in  the  park — beware  of  drinking  at  the  Mermaid- 
en’s  well — He’s  gane  ! lie’s  down  the  path,  arrow-flight 
after  her  ! — The  head  is  as  clean  ta’en  aff  the  Ravenswood 
family  this  day,  as  I wad  chap  the  head  aff  a sybo  !” 
The  old  Butler  looked  long  after  his  master,  often  clear- 
ing away  the  dew  as  it  rose  to  his  eyes,  that  he  might,  as 
long  as  possible,  distinguish  his  stately  form  from  those  of 
the  other  horsemen.  “ Close  to  her  bridle-rein — ay, 
close  to  her  bridle-rein  ! — Wisely  saith  the  holy  man, 
‘ By  this  also  you  may  know  that  woman  hath  dominion 
over  all  men  ;’ — and  without  this  lass  would  not  our  ruin 
have  been  a’thedther  fulfilled.” 

With  a heart  fraught  with  such  sad  auguries  did  Caleb 
return  to  his  necessary  duties  at  Wolf’s  Crag,  so  soon  as 


190 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


he  could  no  longer  distinguish  the  object  of  his  anxiety 
among  the  group  of  riders,  which  diminished  in  the 
distance. 

In  the  mean  time  the  party  pursued  their  route  joyful- 
ly. Having  once  taken  his  resolution,  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood  was  not  of  a character  to  hesitate  or  pause 
upon  it.  He  abandoned  himself  to  the  pleasure  he  felt 
in  Miss  Ashton’s  company,  and  displayed  an  assiduous 
gallantry,  which  approached  as  nearly  to  gaiety  as  the  tem- 
per of  his  mind  and  the  state  of  his  family  permitted. 
The  Lord  Keeper  was  much  struck  with  his  depth  of 
observation,  and  the  unusual  improvement  which  he  hud 
derived  from  his  studies.  Of  these  accomplishments  Sir 
William  Ashton’s  profession  and  habits  of  society  render- 
ed him  an  excellent  judge^ ; and  he  well  knew  how  to 
appreciate  a quality  to  which  he  himself  was  a total  stran- 
ger, the  brief  and  decided  dauntlessness  of  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood’s  disposition,  who  seemed  equally  a 
stranger  to  doubt  and  to  fear.  In  his  heart  the  Lord 
Keeper  rejoiced  at  having  conciliated  an  adversary  so 
formidable,  while,  with  a mixture  of  pleasure  and  anxiety, 
he  anticipated  the  great  things  his  young  companion  might 
achieve,  were  the  breath  of  court-favour  to  fill  his  sails. 

“ What  could  she  desire,”  he  thought,  his  mind  al- 
ways conjuring  up  opposition  in  the  person  of  Lady  Ash- 
ton to  his  now  prevailing  wish — “ What  could  a woman 
desire  in  a match,  more  than  the  sopiting  of  a very  dan- 
gerous claim,  and  the  alliance  of  a son-in-law,  noble, 
brave,  well-gifted,  and  highly  connected* — sure  to  float 
whenever  the  tide  sets  his  way — strong,  exactly  where 
we  are  weak,  in  pedigree  and  in  the  temper  of  a swords- 
man — Sure  no  reasonable  woman  would  hesitate — But, 
alasH”— Here' his  argument  was  stopped  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  Lady  Ashton  was  not  always  reasonable,  in 
his  sense  of  the  word.  “ To  prefer  some  clownish  Merse 
laird  to  the  gallant  young  nobleman,  and  to  the  secure 
possession  of  Ravenswood  upon  terms  of  easy  compro- 
mise—it  would  be  the  act  of  a mad-woman  !” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


191 


Thus  pondered  the  veteran  politician,  until  they  reach- 
ed Bittlebrains  House,  where  it  had  been  previously  set- 
tled they  were  to  dine  and  repose  themselves,  and  prose- 
cute their  journey  in  the  afternoon. 

They  were  received  with  an  excess  of  hospitality  ; and 
the  most  marked  attention  was  offered  to  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  in  particular,  by  their  noble  entertainers. 
The  truth  was,  that  Lord  Bittlebrains  had  obtained  his 
peerage  by  a good  deal  of  plausibility,  an  art  of  building 
up  a character  for  wisdom  upon  a very  trite  style  of  com- 
mon-place eloquence,  a steady  observation  of  the  changes 
of  the  times,  and  the  power  of  rendering  certain  political 
services  to  those  who  could  best  reward  them.  His  lady 
and  he  not  feeling  quite  easy  under  their  new  honours, 
to  which  use  had  not  adapted  their  feelings,  were  very 
desirous  to  procure  the  fraternal  countenance  of  those 
who  were  born  denizens  of  the  regions  into  which  they 
had  been  exalted  from  a lower  sphere.  The  extreme 
attention  which  they  paid  to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood, 
had  its  usual  effect  in  exalting  his  importance  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Lord  Keeper,  who,  although  he  had  a reasonable 
degree  of  contempt  for  Lord  Bittlebrains’  general  parts, 
entertained  a high  opinion  of  the  acuteness  of  his  judg- 
ment in  matters  of  self-interest. 

“ I wish,  Lady  Ashton  had  seen  this,”  was  his  internal 
reflection  ; “ no  man  knows  so  well  as  Bittlebrains  on 
which  side  his  bread  is  buttered  ; and  he  fawns  on  the 
Master  like  a beggar’s  messan  on  a cook.  And  my  lady, 
too,  bringing  forward  her  beetle-browed  misses  to  skirl 
and  play  upon  the  virginals,  as  if  she  said,  pick  and 
choose.  They  are  no  more  comparable  to  Lucy  than  an 
owl  is  to  a cygnet,  and  so  they  may  carry  their  black 
brows  to  a farther  market.” 

The  entertainment  being  ended,  our  travellers,  who  had 
still  to  measure  the  longest  part  of  their  journey,  resum- 
ed their  horses  ; and  after  the  Lord  Keeper,  the  Master 
and  the  domestics,  had  drunk  doch-an-dorroch,  or  the 
stirrup-cup,  in  the  liquors  adapted  to  their  various  ranks, 
the  cavalcade  resumed  its  progress. 


192 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


It  was  dark  by  the  time  they  entered  the  avenue  of 
Ravenswood  Castle,  a long  straight  line  leading  directly 
to  the  front  of  the  house*  flanked  with  huge  elm-trees, 
which  sighed  to  the  night-wind,  as  if  they  compassionat- 
ed the  heir  of  their  ancient  proprietors,  who  now  return- 
ed to  their  shades  in  the  society,  and  almost  in  the  retinue 
of  their  new  master.  Some  feelings  of  the  same  kind 
oppressed  the  mind  of  the  Master  himself.  He  gradual- 
ly became  silent,  and  dropped  a little  behind  the  lady,  at 
whose  bridle-rein  he  had  hitherto  waited  with  such  devo- 
tion. He  well  recollected  the  period,  when,  at  the  same 
hour  in  the  evening,  he  had  accompanied  his  father,  as 
that  nobleman  left,  never  again  to  return  to  it,  the  man- 
sion from  which  he  derived  his  name  and  title.  The  ex- 
tensive front  of  the  old  Castle,  on  which  he  remembered 
having  often  looked  back,  was  then  “ black  as  mourning 
weed.”  The  same  front  now  glanced  with  many  lights, 
some  throwing  far  forward  into  the  night  a fixed  and  sta- 
tionary blaze,  and  others  hurrying  from  one  window  to  an- 
other, intimating  the  bustle  and  busy  preparation  preceding 
their  arrival,  which  had  been  intimated  by  an  avant-cou- 
rier.  The  contrast  pressed  so  strongly  upon  the  Master’s 
heart,  as  to  awaken  some  of  the  sterner  feelings  with 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  the  new  lord  of 
his  paternal  domain,  and  to  impress  his  countenance  with 
an  air  of  severe  gravity,  when,  alighted  from  his  horse, 
he  stood  in  the  hall  no  longer  his  own,  surrounded  by  the 
numerous  menials  of  its  present  owner. 

The  Lord  Keeper,  when  about  to  welcome  him  with 
the  cordiality  which  their  late  intercourse  seemed  to  ren- 
der proper,  became  aware  of  the  change,  refrained  from 
his  purpose,  and  only  intimated  the  ceremony  of  recep- 
tion by  a deep  reverence  to  his  guest,  .seeming  thus  deli- 
cately to  respect  the  feelings  which  predominated  on  his 
brow. 

Two  upper  domestics,  bearing  each  a huge  pair  of  sil- 
ver candlesticks,  now  marshalled  the  company  into  a 
large  saloon  or  with-drawing-room,  where  new  alterations 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR* 


193 


impressed  upon  Ravenswood  the  superior  wealth  of  the 
present  inhabitants  of  the  castle.  The  mouldering  tapes- 
try, which,  in  his  father’s  time,  had  half  covered  the 
walls  of  this  stately  apartment,  and  half  streamed  from 
them  in  tatters,  had  given  place  to  a complete  finishing 
of  wainscot,  the  cornice  of  which,  as  well  as  the  frames 
of  the  various  compartments,  were  ornamented  with  fes- 
toons of  flowers  and  with  birds,  which,  though  carved  in 
oak,  seemed,  such  was  the  art  of  the  chizel,  actually  to 
swell  their  throats,  and  flutter  their  wings.  Several  old 
family  portraits  of  armed  heroes  of  the  house  of  Ravens- 
wood, together  with  a suit  or  two  of  old  armour,  and 
some  military  weapons,  had  given  place  to  those  of  King 
William  and  Queen  Mary,  of  Sir  Thomas  Hope  and 
Lord  Stair,  two  distinguished  Scottish  lawyers.  The 
pictures  of  the  Lord  Keeper’s  father  and  mother  were 
also  to  be  seen  ; the  latter,  sour,  shrewish,  and  solemn, 
in  her  black  hood  and  close  pinners,  with  a book  of  de- 
votion in  her  hand  ; the  former,  exhibiting  beneath  a 
black  silk  Geneva  cowl,  or  skull-cap,  which  sat  as  close  to 
the  head  as  if  it  had  been  shaven,  a pinched,  peevish, 
puritanical  set  of  features,  terminating  in  a hungry,  red- 
dish, peaked  beard,  forming  on  the  whole,  a countenance, 
in  the  expression  of  which  the  hypocrite  seemed  to  con- 
tend with  the  miser  and  the  knave.  And  it  is  to  make 
room  for  such  as  these,  thought  Ravenswood  that  my  an- 
cestors have  been  torn  from  the  walls  which  they  erect- 
ed. He  looked  at  them  again,  and,  as  he  looked,  the 
recollection  of  Lucy  Ashton  (for  she  had  not  entered  the 
apartment  with  them)  seemed  less  lively  in  his  imagin- 
ation. There  was  also  two  or  three  Dutch  drolleries, 
as  the  pictures  of  Ostade  and  Teniers  were  then  termed, 
with  one  good  painting  of  the  Italian  school.  There  was, 
besides,  a noble  full-length  of  the  Lord  Keeper  in  his 
robes  of  office,  placed  beside  his  lady  in  silk  and  ermine, 
a haughty  beauty,  bearing  in  her  looks  all  the  pride  of 
the  house  of  Douglas,  from  which  she  was  descended. 
The  painter,  notwithstanding  his  skill,  overcome  by  the 
17  VOL.  I. 


194 


TAXES  OF  MY  XANDXORD. 


reality,  or,  perhaps,  from  a suppressed  sense  of  humour, 
had  not  been  able  to  give  the  husband  on  the  canvass 
that  air  of  awful  rule  and  right  supremacy,  which  indi- 
cates the  full  possession  of  domestic  authority.  It  was 
obvious,  at  the  first  glance,  that,  despite  mace  and  gold 
frogs,  the  Lord  Keeper  was  somewhat  hen-pecked.  The 
floor  of  ihis  fine  saloon  was  laid  with  rich  carpets,  huge 
fires  blazed  in  the  double  chimneys,  and  ten  silver  scon- 
ces, reflecting  with  their  bright  plates  the  lights  which  they 
supported,  made  the  whole  seem  as  brilliant  as  day. 

“ Would  you  choose  any  refreshment,  Master  9”  said 
Sir  William  Ashton,  not  unwilling  to  break  the  awkward 
silence. 

He  received  no  answer,  the  Master  being  too  busily 
engaged  in  marking  the  various  changes  which  had  taken 
place  in  the  apartment,  that  he  hardly  heard  the  Lord 
Keeper  address  him.  A repetition  of  the  offer  of  refresh- 
ment, with  the  addition,  that  the  family  meal  would  be 
presently  ready,  compelled  his  attention,  and  reminded 
him,  that  he  acted  a weak,  perhaps  even  a ridiculous  part, 
in  suffering  himself  to  be  overcome  by  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  found  himself.  He  compelled  himself,  there- 
fore to  enter  into  conversation  with  Sir  William  Ashton, 
with  as  much  appearance  of  indifference  as  he  could  well 
command. 

“ You  will  not  be  surprised  Sir  William,  that  I am  in- 
terested in  the  changes  you  have  made  for  the  better  in 
this  apartment.  In  my  father’s  time,  after  our  misfor- 
tunes compelled  him  to  live  in  retirement,  it  was  little 
used,  except  by  me  as  a play-room,  when  the  weather 
would  not  permit  me  to  go  abroad.  In  that  recess  was 
my  little  work-shop,  where  I treasured  the  few  carpen- 
ter’s tools  which  old  Caleb  procured  for  me,  and  taught 
me  how  to  use — there,  in  yonder  corner,  under  that  hand- 
some silver  sconce,  I kept  my  fishing-rods,  and  hunting 
>poles,  bows,  and  arrows.” 

“ I have  a young  birkie,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  wil- 
ling to  change  the  tone  of  conversation,  “ he  is  never  Inp- 
py,  save  when  he  is  in  the  field — I wonder  he  is  not  here. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


195 


— Here,  Lockhard — send  William  Shaw  for  Mr.  Henry 
— I suppose  he  is,  as  usual,  tied  to  Lucy’s  apron-string 
— that  foolish  girl,  Master,  draws  the  whole  family  after 
her  at  her  pleasure.” 

Even  this  allusion  to  his  daughter,  though  artfully  thrown 
out,  did  not  recall  Ravenswood  from  his  own  topic. 

“ We  were  obliged  to  leave,”  he  said,  “ some  armour 
and  portraits  in  this  apartment — may  I ask  where  they 
have  been  removed  to  9” 

“ Why,”  answered  the  Keeper,  with  some  hesitation, 
“ the  room  was  fitted  up  in  our  absence — and  cedant 
arma  togce , is  the  maxim  of  lawyers,  you  know — I am 
afraid  it  has  been  here  somewhat  too  literally  complied 
with.  I hope — I believe  they  are  safe — I am  sure  I gave 
orders — may  I hope  that  when  they  are  recovered,  and 
put  in  proper  order,  you  will  do  me  the  honour  to  accept 
them  at  my  hand,  as  an  atonement  for  their  accidental 
derangement  9” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  bowed  stiffly,  and,  with 
folded  arms,  again  resumed  his  survey  of  the  room. 

Henry,  a spoilt  boy  of  fifteen,  burst  into  the  room,  and 
ran  up  to  his  father.  “ Think  of  Lucy,  papa  ; she  has 
come  home  so  cross  and  so  fractious,  that  she  will  not  go 
down  to  the  stable  to  see  my  new  pony,  that  Bob  Wilson 
brought  from  the  Mull  of  Galloway.” 

“ I think  you  were  very  unreasonable  to  ask  her,”  said 
the  Keeper. 

“ Then  you  are  as  cross  as  she  is,”  answered  the  boy  : 
“ and  when  mamma  comes  home  she’ll  claw  up  both  your 
mittens.” 

“ Hush  your  impertinence,  you  little  forward  imp,” 
said  his  father  ; “ where  is  your  tutor  9” 

“ Gone  to  a wedding  at  Dunbar — I hope  he’ll  get  a 
haggis  to  his  dinner  and  he  began  to  sing  the  old  Scot- 
tish song, 

“ There  was  a haggis  in  Dunbar, 

Fal  de  ral,  &c. 

Mony  better  and  few  waur, 

Fal  de  ral/7  &c. 


196 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ I am  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Cordery  for  his  atten- 
tions,” said  the  Lord  Keeper, ; “ and  pray  who  has  had 
charge  of  you  while  I was  away,  Mr.  Henry  9” 
u Norman  and  Bob  Wilson — forbye  my  own  self.” 

A groom  and  a game-keeper,  and  your  own  silly  self 
— proper  guardians  for  a young  advocate  ! — Why,  you 
will  never  know  any  statutes  but  those  against  shooting 

red-deer,  killing  salmon,  and” 

“ And  speaking  of  red-game,”  said  the  young  scape- 
grace, interrupting  his  father  without  scruple  or  hesita- 
tion, “ Norman  has  shot  a buck,  and  I showed  the  branch- 
es to  Lucy,  and  she  says  they  have  but  eight  tynes,  and 
she  says  that  you  killed  a deer  with  Lord  Bittlebrains5 
hounds,  when  you  were  west  away,  and  do  you  know  she 
says  it  had  ten  tynes — is  it  true  V9 

“ It  may  have  had  twenty,  Henry,  for  what  I know  ; 
but  if  you  go  to  that  gentleman  he  can  tell  you  all  about 
it — Go  speak  to  him,  Henry — it  is  the  Master  of  Rav- 
nswood.” 

While  they  conversed  thus,  the  father  and  son  were 
standing  by  the  fire ; and  the  Master  having  walked 
towards  the  upper  end  of  the  apartment,  stood  with  his 
back  towards  them,  apparently  engaged  in  examining 
one  of  the  paintings.  The  boy  ran  up  to  him,  and  pulled 
him  by  the  skirt  of  the  coat  with  the  freedom  of  a spoilt 

child,  saying,  “ I say,  sir — if  you  please  to  tell  me” 

but  when  the  Master  turned  round,  and  Henry  saw  his 
face,  he  became  suddenly  and  totally  disconcerted — walk- 
ed two  or  three  steps  backward,  and  still  gazed  on  Rav- 
enswood  with  an  air  of  fear  and  wonder,  which  had  to- 
tally banished  from  his  features  their  usual  expression  of 
pert  vivacity. 

“ Come  to  me,  young  gentleman,”  said  the  Master, 
*'  and  1 will  tell  you  all  I know  about  the  hunt.” 

“ Go  to  the  gentleman,  Henry,”  said  his  father  ; “ you 
are  not  used  to  be  so  shy.” 

But  neither  invitation  nor  exhortation  had  any  effect 
on  the  boy.  On  the  contrary,  he  turned  round  as  soon 
as  he  had  completed  his  survey  of  the  Master,  and  walk- 


THE  BRIDE  OP  IAMMERMOOK. 


199 


them — but  I was  bred  a plain  man  at  my  father’s  frugal 
table,  and  I should  like  well,  would  my  wife  and  family 
permit  me  to  return  to  my  sowens  and  my  poor-man-of- 
mutton.” 

This  was  a little  over-stretched.  The  Master  only 
answered,  “ That  different  ranks — I mean,”  said  he, 
correcting  himself,  “ different  degrees  of  wealth  require 
a different  style  of  house-keeping.” 

This  dry  remark  put  a stop  to  further  conversation  on 
the  subject,  nor  is  it  necessary  to  record  that  better  tone 
which  was  substituted  in  its  place.  The  evening  was 
spent  with  freedom,  and  even  cordiality  ; and  Henry  had 
so  far  overcome  his  first  apprehensions*  that  he  had  settled 
a party  for  coursing  a stag  with  the  representative  and  liv- 
ing resemblance  of  grim  Sir  Malise  of  Ravenswood,  call- 
ed the  Revenger.  The  next  morning  was  the  appointed 
time.  It  rose  upon  active  sportsmen  and  successful  sport. 
The  banquet  came  in  course ; and  a pressing  invitation 
to  tarry  yet  another  day  was  given  and  accepted.  This 
Ravenswood  had  resolved  should  be  the  last  of  his  stay  ; 
but  he  recollected  he  had  not  yet  visited  the  ancient  and 
devoted  servant  of  his  household  Alice,  and  it  was  but 
kind  to  dedicate  one  morning  to  the  gratification  of  so  an- 
cient an  adherent. 

To  visit  Alice,  therefore,  a day  was  devoted,  and  Lucy 
was  the  Master’s  guide  upon  the  way.  Henry,  it  is  true, 
accompanied  them,  and  took  from  their  walk  the  air  of  a 
tete-a-tete,  While,  in  reality,  it  was  little  else,  considering 
the  variety  of  circumstances  which  occurred  to  prevent 
the  boy  from  giving  the  least  attention  to  what  passed  be- 
tween his  companions.  Now  a rook  settled  on  a branch 
within  shot — anon  a hare  crossed  their  path,  and  Henry 
and  his  greyhound  went  astray  in  pursuit  of  it — then  he 
had  to  hold  a long  conversation  with  the  forester,  which 
detained  him  awhile  behind  his  companions — and  again 
he  went  to  examine  the  earth  of  a badger,  which  carried 
him  on  a good  way  before  them. 

The  conversation  betwixt  the  Master  and  his  sister, 
meanwhile,  took  an  interesting,  and  almost  a confidential 


200 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


turn.  She  could  not  help  mentioning  her  sense  of  the 
pain  he  must  feel  in  visiting  scenes  so  well  known  to  him, 
bearing  now  an  aspect  so  different ; and  so  gently  was 
her  sympathy  expressed,  that  Ravenswood  felt  it  for  a 
moment  as  a full  requital  of  all  his  misfortunes.  Some 
such  sentiment  escaped  him,  which  Lucy  heard  with 
more  of  confusion  than  displeasure  ; and  she  may  be  for- 
given the  imprudence  of  listening  to  such  language,  con- 
sidering that  the  situation  in  which  she  was  placed  by  her 
father  seemed  to  authorize  Ravenswood  to  use  it.  Yet 
she  made  an  effort  to  turn  the  conversation,  and  she  suc- 
ceeded ; for  the  Master  also  had  advanced  farther  than 
he  intended,  and  his  conscience  had  instantly  checked 
him  when  he  found  himself  on  the  verge  of  speaking  of 
love  to  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Ashton. 

They  now  approached  the  hut  of  old  Alice,  which  had 
of  late  been  rendered  more  comfortable,  and  presented 
an  appearance  less  picturesque,  perhaps,  but  far  neater 
than  before.  The  old  woman  was  on  her  accustomed 
seat  beneath  the  weeping  birch,  basking,  with  the  listless 
enjoyment  of  age  and  infirmity,  in  the  beams  of  the  au- 
tumn sun.  At  the  arrival  of  her  visiters  she  turned  her 
head  towards  them.  “ I hear  your  step,  Miss  Ashton,55 
she  said,  “ but  the  gentleman  who  attends  you  is  not  my 
lord,  your  father.55 

“ And  why  should  you  think  so,  Alice  V 5 said  Lucy  ; 
66  or  how  is  it  possible  for  you  to  judge  so  accurately  by 
the  sound  of  a step,  on  this  firm  earth,  and  in  the  open 
air  9” 

“ My  hearing,  my  child,  has  been  sharpened  by  my 
blindness,  and  I can  now  judge  of  the  slightest  sounds, 
which  formerly  reached  my  ears  as  unheeded  as  they 
now  approach  yours.  Necessity  is  a stern  but  an  excel- 
lent school-mistress,  and  she  that  has  lost  her  sight  must 
collect  her  information  from  other  sources.55 

“ Well,  you  hear  a man’s  step  I grant  it,”  said  Lucy  ; 
“ but  why,  Alice,  may  it  not  be  my  father’s  955 

“ The  pace  of  age,  my  love,  is  timid  and  cautious — 
the  foot  takes  leave  of  the  earth  slowly,  and  is  planted 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


197 


ing  as  cautiously  as  if  he  had  been  treading  upon  eggs,  he 
glided  back  to  his  father,  and  pressed  as  close  to  him  as 
possible.  Ravenswood,  to  avoid  hearing  the  dispute  be- 
twixt the  father  and  the  over-indulged  boy,  thought  it 
most  polite  to  turn  his  face  once  more  towards  the  pic- 
tures, and  pay  no  attention  to  what  was  said. 

“ Why  do  you  not  speak  to  the  Master,  you  little  fool  ?” 
said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

“ I am  afraid,”  said  Henry,  in  a very  low  tone  of  voice. 

“ Afraid,  you  goose  !”  said  his  father,  giving  him  a 
slight  shake  by  the  collar, — “ What  makes  you  afraid  VJ 

“ What  makes  him  so  like  the  picture  of  Sir  Malise 
Ravenswood,  then  7”  said  the  boy,  whispering. 

“ What  picture,  you  natural  V9  said  his  father.  “I 
used  to  think  you  only  a scape-grace,  but  I believe  you 
will  turn  out  a born  idiot.” 

“ I tell  you  it  is*the  picture  of  old  Malise  of  Ravens- 
wood, and  he  is  as  like  it  as  if  he  had  loupen  out  of  the 
canvass  ; and  it  is  up  in  the  old  Baron’s  hall  that  the 
maids  launder  the  clothes  in,  and  it  has  armour  and  not 
a coat  like  the  gentleman,  and  he  has  not  a beard  and 
whiskers  like  the  picture,  and  it  has  another  kind  of  thing 
about  the  throat,  and  no  band-strings  as  he  has,  and” 

“ And  why  should  not  the  gentleman  be  like  his  an- 
cestor, you  silly  boy  9”  said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

“ Ay  ; but  if  he  is  come  to  chase  us  all  out  of  the  cas- 
tle,” said  the  boy,  “ and  has  twenty  men  at  his  back  in  dis- 
guise— and  is  come  to  say  with  a hollow  voice,  I bide  my 
time , — and  is  to  kill  you  on  the  hearth  as  Malise  did  the 
other  man,  and  whose  blood  is  still  to  be  seen  !” 

“ Hush  ! nonsense  !”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  not  him- 
self much  pleased  to  hear  these  disagreeable  coincidences 
forced  on  his  notice.  “ Master,  here  comes  Lockhard, 
to  say  supper  is  served.” 

And,  at  the  same  instant,  Lucy  entered  at  another  door, 
having  changed  her  dress  since  her  return.  The  exqui- 
site feminine  beauty  of  her  countenance,  now  shaded  only 
by  a profusion  of  sunny  tresses  ; the  sylph-like  form  dis- 
17*  VOL.  i. 


198 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


encumbered  of  her  heavy  riding-skirt,  and  mantled  in 
azure  silk  ; the  grace  of  her  manner  and  of  her  smile, 
cleared,  with  a celerity  which  surprised  the  Master  him- 
self, all  the  gloomy  and  unfavourable  thoughts  which  had 
for  some  time  overclouded  his  fancy.  In  those  features, 
rO  simply  sweet,  he  could  trace  no  alliance  with  the  pinch- 
ed ; I sage  of  the  peak-bearded  black-capped  puritan,  or 
his  starched  withered  spouse,  with  the  craft  expressed  in 
the  Lord  Keeper’s  countenance,  or  the  haughtiness  which 
predominated  in  that  of  his  lady ; and,  while  he  gazed 
on  Lucy  Ashton,  she  seemed  to  be  an  angel  descended 
on  earth,  unallied  to  the  coarser  mortals  among  whom 
she  deigned  to  dwell  for  a season.  Such  is  the  power 
of  beauty  over  a youthful  and  enthusiastic  fancy. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

- — 1 do  too  ill  in  this, 

And  must  not  think  but  that  a parent’s  plaint 
Will  move  the  heavens  to  pour  forth  misery 
Upon  the  head  of  disobediency. 

Yet  reason  tells  us,  parents  are  o’erseen, 

When  with  too  strict  a rein  they  do  hold  in 
Their  child’s  affection,  and  control  that  love, 

Which  the  high  powers  divine  inspire  them  with. 

The  Hog  hath  lost  his  Pearl. 

The  feast  of  Ravenswood  Castle  was  as  remarkable 
for  its  profusion,  as  that  of  Wolfs  Crag  had  been  for  its 
ill-veiled  penury.  The  Lord  Keeper  might  feel  inter- 
pride at  the  contrast,  but  he  had  too  much  tact  to 
suiter  it  to  appear.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  re- 
member with  pleasure  what  he  called  Mr.  Balderstone’s 
bachelor’s  meal,  and  to  be  rather  disgusted  than  pleased 
with  the  display  upon  his  own  groaning  board. 

u We  do  these  things,”  he  said  “ because  others  do 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


201 


down  upon  it  with  hesitation  ; it  is  the  hasty  and  deter- 
mined step  of  youth  that  I now  hear,  and,  could  1 give 
credit  to  so  strange  a thought — I should  say  it  was  the 
step  of  a Ravenswood.55 

“ This  is  indeed,55  said  Ravenswood,  “ an  acuteness 
of  organ  which  I could  not  have  credited  had  I not  wit- 
nessed it. — I am  indeed  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  Alice 
— the  son  of  your  old  master.55 

“ You  <?55  said  the  old  woman  with  almost  a scream 
of  surprise — “ you  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — here — 
in  this  place,  aifd  thus  accompanied  ? — I cannot  believe 
it — Let  me  pass  my  old  hand  over  your  face,  that  my 
touch  may  bear  witness  to  my  ears.55 

The  Master  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  earthen  bank, 
and  permitted  her  to  touch  his  features  with  her  trem- 
bling hand. 

“ It  is  indeed  !55  she  said,  “ it  is  the  features  as  well 
as  the  voice  of  Ravenswood — the  high  lines  of  pride,  as 
well  as  the  bold  and  haughty  tone — But  what  do  you 
here,  Master  of  Ravenswood  ? — what  do  you  in  your 
enemy’s  domain,  and  in  company  with  his  child  <?55 

As  old  Alice  spoke,  her  face  kindled,  as  probably  that 
of  an  ancient  feudal  vassal  might  have  done,  in  whose 
presence  his  youthful  liege-lord  had  showed  some  symp- 
tom of  degenerating  from  the  spirit  of  his  ancestors. 

“ The  Master  of  Ravenswood,55  said  Lucy,  who  liked 
not  the  tone  of  this  expostulation,  and  was  desirous  to 
abridge  it,  “ is  upon  a visit  to  my  father.55 

“ Indeed  !55  said  the  old  blind  woman,  in  an  accent  of 
surprise. 

“ I knew,55  continued  Lucy,  “ I should  do  him  a 
pleasure  by  conducting  him  to  your  cottage.5* 

“ Where,  to  say  the  truth,  Alice,55  said  Ravenswood, 
“ I expected  a more  cordial  reception.55 

“ It  is  most  wonderful,55  said  the  old  woman,  mutter- 
ing to  herself ; “ but  the  ways  of  Heaven  are  not  like 
our  ways,  and  its  judgments  are  brought  about  by  means 
far  beyond  our  fathoming. — Hearken,  young  man,55  she 
said  ; 66  your  fathers  were  implacable,  but  they  were  hon~ 


202 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


ourable  foes  ; they  sought  not  to  ruin  their  enemies  un- 
der the  mask  of  hospitality.  What  have  you  to  do  with 
Lucy  Ashton  9 — why  should  your  steps  move  in  the  same 
foot-path  with  her’s  9 — why  should  your  voice  sound  in 
the  same  chord  and  time  with  those  of  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton’s daughter  9 — Young  man,  he  who  aims  at  revenge 

by  dishonourable  means” 

“ Be  silent,  woman  !”  said  Ravenswood  sternly  ; “ is 
it  the  devil  that  prompts  your  voice  9 — Know  that  this 
young  lady  has  not  on  earth  a friend  who  would  venture 
farther  to  save  her  from  injury  or  from  insult.” 

“ And  is  it  even  so  9”  said  the  old  woman,  in  an  alter- 
ed but  melancholy  tone — “ then  God  help  you  both  !” 

“ Amen  ! Alice  !”  said  Lucy,  who  had  not  compre- 
hended the  import  of  what  the  blind  woman  had  hinted, 
“ and  send  you  your  senses,  Alice,  and  your  good  hu- 
mour. If  you  hold  this  rnysterions  language,  instead  of 
welcoming  your  friends,  they  will  think  of  you  as  other 
people  do.” 

“ And  how  do  other  people  think  9”  said  Ravenswood, 
for  he  also  began  to  think  the  old  woman  spoke  with  in- 
coherence. 

“ They  think,”  said  Henry  Ashton,  who  came  up  at 
that  moment,  and  whispered  into  Ravenswood’s  ear, 
“ that  she  is  a witch  that  should  have  been  burned  with 
them  that  suffered  at  Haddington.” 

“ What  is  that  you  say  9”  said  Alice,  turning  towards 
the  boy,  her  sightless  visage  inflamed  with  passion  ; “ that 
I am  a witch,  and  ought  to  have  suffered  with  the  help- 
less old  wretches  who  were  murdered  at  Haddington  9” 
“ Hear  to  that  now,”  again  whispered  Henry,  “ and 
me  whispering  lower  than  a wren  cheeps.” 

“ If  the  usurer,  and  the  oppressor,  and  the  grinder  of 
the  poor  man’s  face,  and  the  remover  of  ancient  land- 
marks, and  the  subvertpr  of  ancient  houses,  were  at  the 
same  stake  with  me,  I could  say,  light  the  fire,  in  God’s 
name  !” 

“ This  is  dreadful,”  said  Lucy  ; “ I have  never  seen 
the  poor  deserted  woman  in  this  state  of  mind  ; but  age 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


203 


and  poverty  can  ill  bear  reproach. — Come,  Henry,  we 
will  leave  her  for  the  present — she  wishes  to  speak  with 
the  Master  alone.  We  will  walk  homeward,  and  rest  us,” 
she  added,  looking  at  Ravenswood,  “ by  the  Mermaid- 
en’s  Well.” 

“ And  Alice,”  said  the  boy,  “ if  you  know  of  any 
hare  that  comes  through  among  the  deer,  and  makes 
them  drop  their  calves  out  of  season,  you  may  tell  her, 
with  my  compliments  to  command,  that  if  Norman  has 
not  got  a silver  bullet  ready  for  her,  I’ll  lend  him  one  of 
my  doublet-buttons  on  purpose.” 

Alice  made  no  answer  till  she  was  aware  that  they 
were  out  of  hearing.  She  then  said  to  Ravenswood, 
“ And  you,  too,  are  angry  with  me  for  my  love  9 — it  is 
just  that  strangers  should  be  offended,  but  you,  too,  are 
angry.” 

“ I am  not  angry,  Alice,”  said  the  Master,  “ only  sur- 
prised that  you,  whose  good  sense  1 have  heard  so  often 
praised,  should  give  way  to  offensive  and  unfounded  sus- 
picions.” 

“ Offensive  9”  said  Alice — “ Ay,  truth  is  ever  offen- 
sive— but,  surely,  not  unfounded.” 

“ I tell  you,  dame,  most  groundless,”  replied  Ravens- 
wood . 

44  Then  the  world  has  changed  its  wont,  and  the  Ra- 
venswoods  their  hereditary  temper,  and  the  eyes  of  old 
Alice’s  understanding  are  yet  more  blind  than  those  of 
her  countenance.  When  did  a Ravefiswood  seek  the 
house  of  his  enemy,  but  with  the  purpose  of  revenge  ? 
— and  hither  are  you  come,  Edgar  Ravenswood,  either 
in  fatal  anger,  or  in  still  more  fatal  love.” 

“ In  neither,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ I give  you  mine 
honour — 1 mean,  I assure  you.” 

Alice  could  not  see  his  blushing  cheek,  but  she  noticed 
his  hesitation,  ana  that  he  retracted  the  pledge  which  he 
seemed  at  first  disposed  to  attach  to  his  denial. 

“ It  is  so,  then,”  she  said,  “ and  therefore  she  is  to 
tarry  by  the  Mermaiden’s  Well  ! Often  has  it  been  called 
a place  fatal  to  the  race  of  Ravenswood — often  has  it 


204 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


proved  so — but  never  was  it  likely  to  verify  old  sayings  so 
much  as  on  this  day.” 

“ You  drive  me  to  madness,  Alice,”  said  Ravenswood  ; 
“ you  are  more  silly  and  more  superstitious  than  old 
Balderstone.  Are  you  such  a wretched  Christian  as  to 
suppose  I should  maintain  war  with  the  Ashton  family,  as 
was  the  sanguinary  custom  in  elder  times  *?  or  do  you 
suppose  me  so  foolish,  that  I cannot  walk  by  a young  lady’s 
side  without  plunging  headlong  in  love  with  her  V9 

“ My  thoughts,”  replied  Alice,  “ are  my  own  ; and 
if  my  mortal  sight  is  closed  to  objects  present  with  me, 
it  may  be  I can  look  with  more  steadiness  into  future 
events.  Are  you  prepared  to  sit  lowest  at  the  board 
which  was  once  your  father’s  own,  unwillingly,  as  a con- 
nection and  ally  of  his  proud  successor  *? — Are  you 
ready  to  live  on  his  bounty — to  follow  him  in  the  bye- 
paths  of  intrigue  and  chicane,  which  none  can  better 
point  out  to  you — to  gnaw  the  bones  of  his  prey  when  he 
has  devoured  the  substance  *? — Can  you  say  as  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton  says — think  as  he  thinks — vote  as  he  votes, 
and  call  your  father’s  murderer  your  worshipful  father-in- 
law  and  revered  patron*? — Ravenswood,  I am  the  eldest 
servant  of  your  house,  and  I would  rather  see  you 
shrouded  and  coffined.” 

The  tumult  in  Ravenswood’s  mind  was  uncommonly 
great  ; she  struck  upon  and  awakened  a chord  which  he 
had  for  some  time  successfully  silenced.  He  strode 
backwards  and  forwards  through  the  little  garden  with  a 
hasty  pace  ; and  at  length  checking  himself,  and  stop- 
ping right  opposite  to  Alice,  he  exclaimed,  “ Woman  ! 
on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  dare  you  urge  the  son  of  your 
master  to  blood  and  to  revenge  *?” 

“ God  forbid  !”  said  Alice  solemnly  ; “ and  therefore 
1 would  have  you  depart  these  fatal  bounds,  where  your 
love,  as  well  as  your  hatred,  threatens  sure  mischief,  or 
at  least  disgrace,  both  to  yourself  and  others.  I would 
shield,  were  it  in  the  power  of  this  withered  hand,  the 
Ashtons  from  you,  and  you  from  them,  and  both  from 
their  own  passions.  You  can  have  nothing,  ought  to  have 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


205 


nothing,  in  common  with  them — Begone  from  among 
them  ; and  if  God  has  destined  vengeance  on  the  oppres- 
sor’s house,  do  not  you  be  the  instrument.” 

“ I will  think  on  what  you  have  said,  Alice,”  said 
Ravenswood  more  composedly.  “ I believe  you  mean 
truly  and  faithfully  by  me,  but  you  urge  the  freedom  of 
an  ancient  domestic  somewhat  too  far.  But  farewell  ; 
and  if  Heaven  afford  me  better  means,  I will  not  fail  to 
contribute  to  your  comfort.” 

He  attempted  to  put  a piece  of  gold  into  her  hand, 
which  she  refused  to  receive  ; and,  in  the  slight  struggle 
attending  his  wish  to  force  it  upon  her,  it  dropped  to  the 
earth. 

“ Let  it  remain  an  instant  on  the  ground,”  said  Alice, 
as  the  Master  stooped  to  raise  it  ; “ and  believe  me,  that 
piece  of  gold  is  an  emblem  of  her  whom  you  love ; she 
is  as  precious,  I grant,  but  you  must  stoop  even  to  abase- 
ment before  you  can  win  her.  For  me,  I have  as  little  to 
do  with  gold  as  with  earthly  passions  ; and  the  best  news 
that  the  world  has  in  store  for  me  is,  that  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood is  an  hundred  miles  distant  from  the  seat  of  his 
ancestors,  with  the  determination  never  again  to  renew  it.” 
“ Alice,”  said  the  Master,  who  began  to  think  this 
earnestness  had  some  more  secret  cause  than  arose  from 
anything  that  the  blind  woman  could  have  gathered  from 
this  casual  visit,  “ I have  heard  you  praised  by  my  mother 
for  your  sense,  acuteness,  and  fidelity  ; you  are  no  fool 
to  start  at  shadows,  or  to  dread  old  superstitious  saws, 
like  Caleb  Balderstone  ; tell  me  distinctly  where  my 
danger  lies,  if  you  are  aware  of  any  which  is  tending 
towards  me.  If  1 know  myself,  I am  free  from  all  such 
views  respecting  Miss  Ashton  as  you  impute  to  me.  I 
have  necessary  business  to  settle  with  Sir  William — that 
arranged,  I shall  depart  ; and  with  as  little  wish,  as  you 
may  easily  believe,  to  return  to  a place  full  of  melancholy 
subjects  of  reflection,  as  you  have  to  see  me  here.” 

Alice  bent  her  sightless  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  was 
for  a moment  plunged  in  deep  meditation.  “ I will  speak 
18  VOL.  i. 


206 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


the  truth,”  she  said,  at  length  raising  up  her  head — “ I 
will  tell  you  the  source  of  my  apprehensions,  whether  my 
candour  be  for  good  or  for  evil — Lucy  Ashton  loves  you, 
Lord  of  Ravenswood.” 

“ It  is  impossible,”  said  the  Master. 

“ A thousand  circumstances  have  proved  it  to  me. 
Her  thoughts  have  turned  on  no  one  else  since  you  saved 
her  from  death,  and  that  my  experienced  judgment  has 
won  from  her  own  conversation.  Having  told  you  this — 
if  you  are  indeed  a gentleman  and  your  father’s  son — 
you  will  make  it  a motive  for  flying  from  her  presence. 
Her  passion  will  die  like  a lamp,  for  want  of  that  the 
flame  should  feed  upon  ; but,  if  you  remain  here,  her 
destruction,  or  yours,  or  that  of  both,  will  be  the  inevita- 
ble consequence  of  her  misplaced  attachment.  I tell  you 
this  secret  unwillingly,  but  it  could  not  have  been  hid 
long  from  your  own  observation  ; and  it  is  better  you  learn 
it  from  mine.  Depart,  Master  of  Ravenswood — you 
have  my  secret.  If  you  remain  an  hour  under  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton’s  roof  without  the  resolution  to  marry  his 
daughter,  you  are  a villain — if  with  the  purpose  of  ally- 
ing yourself  with  him,  you  are  an  infatuated  and  predes- 
tined fool.” 

So  saying,  the  old  blind  woman  arose,  assumed  her 
staff,  and,  tottering  to  the  hut,  entered  it  and  closed  the 
door,  leaving  Ravenswood  to  his  own  reflections. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

u Lovelier  in  her  own  retired  abode 

than  Naiad  by  the  side 

Of  Grecian  brook — or  Lady  of  the  Mere 
Lone  sitting  by  the  shores  of  old  romance." 

Wordsworth. 

The  meditations  of  Ravenswood  were  of  a very  mix- 
ed complexion.  He  saw  himself  at  once  in  the  very  di 


THE  I5RIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR, 


207 


lemma  which  he  had  for  some  time  felt  apprehensive  he 
might  be  placed  in.  The  pleasure  he  felt  in  Lucy’s  com- 
pany had  indeed  approached  to  fascination,  yet  it  had 
never  altogether  surmounted  his  internal  reluctance  to 
wed  with  the  daughter  of  his  father’s  foe  ; and  even  in 
forgiving  Sir  William  Ashton  the  injuries  which  his  house 
had  received,  and  giving  him  credit  for  the  kind  inten- 
tions he  professed  to  entertain,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  contemplate  as  possible  an  alliance  betwixt  their  houses. 
Still  he  felt  that  Alice  spoke  truth,  and  that  his  honour 
now  required  he  should  take  an  instant  leave  of  Ravens- 
wood  Castle,  or  become  a suitor  of  Lucy  Ashton.  The 
possibility  of  being  rejected,  too,  should  he  make  advances 
to  her  wealthy  and  powerful  father — to  sue  for  the  hand 
of  an  Ashton  and  be  refused — this  were  a consummation 
too  disgraceful.  “ I wish  her  well,”  he  said  to  himself, 
“ and  for  her  sake  I forgive  the  injuries  her  father  has 
done  to  my  house  ; but  I will  never — no,  never  see  her 
more  !” 

With  one  bitter  pang  he  adopted  this  resolution,  just  as 
he  came  to  where  two  paths  parted  ; the  one  to  the  Mer- 
maiden’s  Fountain,  where  he  knew  Lucy  waited  him,  the 
other  leading  to  the  castle  by  another  and  more  circuitous 
road.  He  paused  an  instant  when  about  to  take  the  lat- 
ter path,  thinking  what  apology  he  should  make  for  con- 
duct which  must  needs  seem  extraordinary,  and  had  just 
muttered  to  himself,  “ Sudden  news  from  Edinburgh — 
any  pretext  will  serve — only  let  me  dally  no  longer  here,” 
when  young  Henry  came  flying  up  to  him,  half  out  of 
breath — “ Master,  Master,  you  must  give  Lucy  your  arm 
back  to  the  castle,  for  I cannot  give  her  mine  ; for  Nor- 
man is  waiting  for  me,  and  I am  to  go  with  him  to  make 
his  ring-walk,  and  I would  not  stay  away  for  a gold  Jaco- 
bus, and  Lucy  is  afraid  to  walk  home  alone,  though  all 
the  wild  nowt  have  been  shot,  and  so  you  must  come 
away  directly.” 

Betwixt  two  scales  equally  loaded,  a feather’s  weight 
will  turn  the  balance.  “ It  is  impossible  for  me  to  leave  the 
young  lady  in  the  wood  alone,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ to 


208 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


see  her  once  more  can  be  of  little  consequence,  after  the 
frequent  meetings  we  have  had — I ought  too,  in  courtesy, 
to  apprize  her  of  my  intention  to  quit  the  castle.” 

And  having  thus  satisfied  himself  that  he  was  taking 
not  only  a wise,  but  an  absolutely  necessary  step,  he  took 
the  path  to  the  fatal  fountain.  Henry  no  sooner  saw  him 
on  the  way  to  join  his  sister,  than  he  was  off  like  light- 
ning in  another  direction,  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the  for- 
ester in  their  congenial  pursuits.  Ravenswood,  not  al- 
lowing himself  to  give  a second  thought  to  the  propriety 
of  his  own  conduct,  walked  with  a quick  step  towards  the 
stream,  where  he  found  Lucy  seated  alone  by  the  ruin. 

She  sat  upon  one  of  the  disjointed  stones  of  the  an- 
cient fountain,  and  seemed  to  watch  the  progress  of  its 
current,  as  it  bubbled  forth  to  daylight,  in  gay  and  spark- 
ling profusion,  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  ribbed  and 
darksome  vault,  with  which  veneration,  or  perhaps  re- 
morse, had  canopied  its  source.  To  a superstitious  eye, 
Lucy  Ashton,  folded  in  her  plaiden  mantle,  with  her  long 
hair  escaping  partly  from  the  snood  and  falling  upon  her 
silver  neck,  might  have  suggested  the  idea  of  the  mur- 
dered Nymph  of  the  Fountain.  But  Ravenswood  only 
saw  a female  exquisitely  beautiful,  and  rendered  yet  more 
so  in  his  eyes— how  could  it  be  otherwise — by  the  con- 
sciousness that  she  had  placed  her  affections  on  him.  As 
he  gazed  on  her,  he  felt  his  fixed  resolution  melting  like 
wax  in  the  sun,  and  hastened,  therefore,  from  his  con- 
cealment in  the  neighbouring  thicket.  She  saluted  him, 
but  did  not  arise  from  the  stone  on  which  she  was  seated. 

“ My  mad-cap  brother,”  she  said,  “ has  left  me,  but 
I expect  him  back  in  a few  minutes — for  fortunately,  as 
every  thing,  at  least  anything,  pleases  him  for  a minute, 
nothing  has  charms  for  him  much  longer.” 

Ravenswood  did  not  feel  the  power  of  informing  Lucy 
that  her  brother  meditated  a distant  excursion,  and  would 
not  return  in  haste.  He  sat  himself  down  on  the  grass, 
at  some  little  distance  from  Miss  Ashton,  and  both  were 
silent  for  a short  space. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR* 


209 


“ I like  this  spot,”  said  Lucy  at  length,  as  if  she  had 
found  the  silence  embarrassing  ; “ the  bubbling  murmur 
of  the  clear  fountain,  the  waving  of  the  trees,  the  profu- 
sion of  grass  and  wild-flowers,  that  rise  among  the  ruins, 
make  it  like  a scene  in  romance.  1 think,  too,  I have 
heard  it  is  a spot  connected  with  the  legendary  lore  which 
I love  so  well.” 

“ It  has  been  thought,”  answered  Ravenswood,  “ a 
fatal  spot  to  our  family,  and  I have  some  reason  to  term  it 
so,  for  it  was  here  I first  saw  Miss  Ashton — and  it  is  here 
I must  take  my  leave  of  her  for  ever.” 

The  blood,  which  the  first  part  of  this  speech  called  into 
Lucy’s  cheeks,  was  speedily  expelled  by  its  conclusion. 

“ To  take  leave  of  us,  Master  !”  she  exclaimed  ; 
“ what  can  have  happened  to  hurry  you  away  9 — I know 
Alice  hates — I mean  dislikes  my  father — and  I hardly 
understood  her  humour  to-day,  it  was  so  mysterious. 
But  I am  certain  my  father  is  sincerely  grateful  for  the 
high  service  you  rendered  us.  Let  me  hope  that  having 
won  your  friendship  hardly,  we  shall  not  lose  it  lightly.” 
“ Lose  it,  Miss  Ashton  cl— No — wherever  my  fortune 
calls  me— whatever  she  inflicts  upon  me — it  is  your  friend 
— your  sincere  friend  who  acts  or  suffers.  But  there  is 
a fate  on  me,  and  I must  go,  or  1 shall  add  the  ruin  of 
others  to  my  own.” 

“ Yet  do  not  go  from  us,  Master,”  said  Lucy  ; and  she 
laid  her  hand,  in  all  simplicity  and  kindness  upon  the 
skirt  of  his  cloak,  as  if  to  detain  him- — “ You  shall  not 
part  from  us — My  father  is  powerful  ! he  has  friends  that 
are  more  so  than  himself — do  not  go  till  you  see  what  his 
gratitude  will  do  for  you.  Believe  me,  he  is  already  la- 
bouring in  your  behalf  with  the  Council.” 

u It  may  be  so,”  said  the  Master,  proudly  ; “ yet  it  is 
not  to  your  father,  Miss  Ashton,  but  to  my  own  exertions, 
that  I ought  to  owe  success  in  the  career  on  which  I am 
about  to  enter.  My  preparations  are  already  made — a 
sword  and  a cloak,  and  a bold  heart  and  a determined 
hand.” 

18*  VOL.  I. 


210  TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 

Lucy  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  the  tears, 
in  spite  of  her,  forced  their  way  between  her  fingers. 
“ Forgive  me,”  said  Ravenswood,  taking  her  right  hand, 
which,  after  slight  resistance,  she  yielded  to  him,  still  con- 
tinuing to  shade  her  face  with  the  left — “ I am  too  rude 
— too  rough — too  intractable  to  deal  with  any  being  so 
soft  and  gentle  as  you  are.  Forget  that  so  stern  a vision 
has  crossed  your  path  of  life — and  let  me  pursue  mine, 
sure  that  I can  meet  with  no  worse  misfortune  after  the 
moment  it  divides  me  from  your  side.” 

Lucy  wept  on,  but  her  tears  were  less  bitter.  Each  at- 
tempt which  the  Master  made  to  explain  his  purpose  of 
departure,  only  proved  a new  evidence  of  his  desire  to 
stay  ; until,  at  length,  instead  of  bidding  her  farewell,  he 
gave  his  faith  to  her  forever,  and  received  her  troth  in  re- 
turn. The  whole  passed  so  suddenly,  and  arose  so  much 
out  of  the  immediate  impulse  of  the  moment,  that  ere  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  could  reflect  upon  the  consequen- 
ces of  the  step  which  he  had  taken,  their  lips,  as  well  as 
their  hands,  had  pledged  the  sincerity  of  their  affection. 

“ And  now,”  he  said,  after  a moment’s  consideration, 
“ it  is  fit  I should  speak  to  Sir  William  Ashton — he  must 
know  of  our  engagement.  Ravenswood  must  not  seem 
to  dwell  under  his  roof,  to  solicit  clandestinely  the  affec- 
tions of  his  daughter.” 

“ You  would  not  speak  to  my  father  on  the  subject,” 
said  Lucy,  doubtingly  ; and  then  added  more  warmly, 
“ O do  not — do  not  ! Let  your  lot  in  life  be  determined 
— your  station  and  purpose  ascertained,  before  you  ad- 
dress my  father  ; I am  sure  he  loves  you — I think  he  will 
consent — but  then  my  mother” 

She  paused,  ashamed  to  express  the  doubt  she  felt  how 
far  her  father  dared  to  form  any  positive  resolution  on  this 
most  important  subject  vvithout  the  consent  of  his  lady. 

“ Your  mother,  my  Lucy  9”  replied  Ravenswood  ; 
“ she  is  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  a house  that  has  inter- 
married with  mine,  even  when  its  glory  and  power  were 
at  the  highest — what  could  your  mother  object  to  my 
alliance  V* 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOK. 


211 


I did  not  say  object,”  said  Lucy  ; “ but  she  is  jeal- 
ous of  her  rights,  and  may  claim  a mother’s  title  to  be 
consulted  in  the  first  instance.” 

“ Be  it  so,”  replied  Ravensvvood  ; “ London  is  distant, 
but  a letter  will  reach  it  and  receive  an  answer  within  a 
fortnight — I will  not  press  on  the  Lord  Keeper  for  an  in- 
stant reply  to  my  proposal.” 

u But,”  hesitated  Lucy,  “ were  it  not  better  to  wait— 
to  wait  a few  weeks — were  my  mother  to  see  you — to 
know  you — I am  sure  she  would  approve  ; but  you  are 
unacquainted  personally,  and  the  ancient  feud  between  the 
families” 

Ravenswood  fixed  upon  her  his  keen  dark  eyes,  as  if 
he  was  desirous  of  penetrating  into  her  very  soul. 

“ Lucy,”  he  said,  “ I have  sacrificed  to  you  projects 
of  vengeance  long  nursed,  and  sworn  to  with  ceremonies 
little  better  than  heathen — I sacrificed  them  to  your  image, 
ere  I knew  the  worth  which  it  represented.  In  the  even- 
ing which  succeeded  my  poor  father’s  funeral,  I cut  a lock 
from  my  hair,  and,  as  it  consumed  in  the  fire,  I swore  that 
my  rage  and  revenge  should  pursue  his  enemies,  until 
they  shrivelled  before  me  like  that  scorched-up  symbol 
of  annihilation.” 

“ It  was  a deadly  sin,”  said  Lucy,  turning  pale,  “ to 
make  a vow  so  fatal.” 

“ I acknowledge  it,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ and  it  had 
been  a worse  crime  to  keep  it.  It  was  for  your  sake  that 
I abjured  these  purposes  of  vengeance,  though  I scarce 
knew  that  such  was  the  argument  by  which  I was  con- 
quered, until  I saw  you  once  more,  and  became  conscious 
of  the  influence  you  possessed  over  me.” 

“ And  why  do  you  now,”  said  Lucy,  “ recall  senti- 
ments so  terrible — sentiments  so  inconsistent  with  those 
you  profess  for  me — with  those  your  importunity  has  pre- 
vailed  on  me  to  acknowledge  V9 

“ Because  I would  impress  on  you  the  price  at  which 
] have  bought  your  love — the  right  I h^ve  to  expect  your 
constancy.  I say  not  that  I have  bartered  for  it  the  hon- 
our of  my  house,  its  last  remaining  possession — but  though 


212 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


I say  it  not,  and  think  it  not,  I cannot  conceal  from  my- 
self that  the  world  may  do  both.” 

“ If  such  are  your  sentiments,”  said  Lucy,  “ you  have 
played  a cruel  game  with  me.  But  it  is  not  too  late  to 
give  it  over — take  back  the  faith  and  troth  which  you 
could  not  plight  to  me  without  suffering  abatement  of  hon- 
our— let  what  is  passed  be  as  if  it  had  not  been — forget 
me — I will  endeavour  to  forget  myself.” 

“ You  do  me  injustice,”  said  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood  ; “ by  all  1 hold  true  and  honourable,  you  do  me 
the  extremity  of  injustice — if  I mentioned  the  price  at 
^hich  I have  bought  your  love,  it  is  only  to  show  how 
much  I prize  it,  to  bind  our  engagement  by  a still  firmer 
tie,  and  to  show7,  by  what  I have  done  to  attain  this  station 
in  your  regard,  how  much  I must  suffer  should  you  ever 
break  your  faith.” 

“ And  why,  Ravenswood,”  answered  Lucy,  “ should 
you  think  that  possible  — Why  should  you  urge  me  with 
even  the  mention  of  infidelity  9 — Is  it  because  I ask  you 
to  delay  applying  to  my  father  for  a little  space  of  time 
Bind  me  by  what  vows  you  please  ; if  vows  are  unneces- 
sary to  secure  constancy,  they  may  yet  prevent  suspicion.” 
Ravenswood  pleaded,  apologized,  and  even  kneeled, 
to  appease  her  displeasure  ; and  Lucy,  as  placable  as  she 
was  single-hearted,  readily  forgave  the  offence  which  his 
doubts  had  implied.  The  dispute  thus  agitated,  however, 
ended  by  the  lovers  going  through  an  emblematic  cere- 
mony of  their  troth-plight,  of  which  the  vulgar  still  pre- 
serve some  traces.  They  broke  betwixt  them  the  thin 
broad-piece  of  gold  which  Alice  had  refused  to  receive 
from  Ravenswood. 

“ And  never  shall  this  leave  my  bosom,”  said  Lucy,  as 
she  hung  the  piece  of  gold  round  her  neck,  and  conceal- 
ed it  with  her  handkerchief,  “ until  you,  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood, ask  me  to  resign  it  to  you — and,  while  I wear  it, 
never  shall  that  heart  acknowledge  another  love  than 
your’s.” 

With  like  protestations,  Ravenswood  placed  his  portion 
of  the  coin  opposite  to  his  heart.  And  now,  at  length,  it 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR.  213 

struck  them,  that  time  had  hurried  fast  on  during  this  in- 
terview, and  their  absence  at  the  castle  would  be  subject 
of  remark,  if  not  of  alarm.  As  they  arose  to  leave  the 
fountain  which  had  been  witness  of  their  mutual  engage- 
ment, an  arrow  whistled  through  the  air,  and  struck  a 
raven  perched  on  the  sere  branch  of  an  old  oak,  near  to 
where  they  had  been  seated.  The  bird  fluttered  a few 
yards,  and  dropped  at  the  feet  of  Lucy,  whose  dress  was 
stained  with  some  spots  of  its  blood. 

Miss  Ashton  was  much  alarmed,  and  Ravenswood,  sur- 
prised and  angry,  looked  every  where  for  the  marksman, 
who  had  given  them  a proof  of  his  skill  as  little  expected 
as  desired.  He  was  not  long  of  discovering  himself,  being 
no  other  than  Henry  Ashton,  who  came  running  up  with  a 
cross-bow  in  his  hand. 

“ I knew  I should  startle  you,”  he  said ; “ and  do  you 
know  you  looked  so  busy  that  I thought  it  would  have 
fallen  souse  on  your  heads  before  you  were  aware  of  it 
— What  was  the  Master  saying  to  you,  Lucy  V9 

“ I was  telling  your  sister  what  an  idle  lad  you  were, 
keeping  us  waiting  here  for  you  so  long/’  said  Ravens- 
wood, to  save  Lucy’s  confusion. 

“ Waiting  for  me  9 Why,  I told  you  to  see  Lucy  home, 
and  that  I wTas  to  go  to  make  the  ring-walk  with  old  Nor- 
man in  the  Hayberry  thicket,  and  you  may  be  sure  that 
would  take  a good  hour,  and  we  have  all  the  deer’s  marks 
and  furnishes  got,  while  you  were  sitting  here  with  Lucy 
like  a lazy  loon.” 

“ Well,  well,  Mr.  Henry,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ bullet 
us  see  how  you  will  answer  to  me  for  killing  the  raven. 
Do  you  know  the  ravens  are  all  under  the  protection  of 
the  Lords  of  Ravenswood,  and,  to  kill  one  in  their  pres- 
ence, is  such  bad  luck  that  it  deserves  the  stab  *?” 

“ And  that’s  what  Norman  said,”  replied  the  boy  ; 
“ he  came  as  far  with  me  as  within  a flight-shot  of  you, 
and  he  said  he  never  saw  a raven  sit  still  so  near  living 
folks,  and  he  wished  it  might  be  for  good  luck  ; for  the 
raven  is  one  of  the  wildest  birds  that  flies,  unless  it  be  a 
tame  one— and  so  I crept  on  and  on,  till  T was  within  three 


214 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


score  yards  of  him,  and  then  whiz  went  the  bolt,  and 
there  he  lies,  faith  ! Was  it  not  well  shot  9 — and,  I dare 
say,  I have  not  shot  in  a cross-bow — not  ten  times,  maybe.’’ 

“ Admirably  shot  indeed,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ and 
you  will  be  a fine  marksman  if  you  practise  hard.” 

“ That’s  what  Norman  says,”  answered  the  boy  ; “ but 
I am  sure  it  is  not  my  fault  if  I do  not  practise  enough  ; 
for,  of  free  will,  I would  do  little  else,  only  my  father  and 
tutor  are  angry  sometimes,  and  only  Miss  Lucy  there 
gives  herself  airs  about  my  being  busy,  for  all  she  can  sit 
idle  by  a well-side  the  whole  day  when  she  has  a hand- 
some young  gentleman  to  prate  wi’ — I have  known  her 
to  do  so  twenty  times,  if  you  will  believe  me.” 

The  boy  looked  at  his  sister  as  he  spoke,  and,  in  the 
midst  of  his  mischievous  chatter,  had  the  sense  to  see 
that  he  was  really  inflicting  pain  upon  her,  though  without 
being  able  to  comprehend  the  cause  or  the  amount. 

“ Come  now,  Lucy,”  he  said,  “ don’t  greet ; and  if  I 
have  said  anything  beside  the  mark,  I’ll  deny  it  again — 
and  what  does  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  care  if  you  had 
a hundred  sweethearts — so  ne’er  put  fingers  in  your  eye 
about  it.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  was,  for  the  moment, 
scarce  satisfied  with  what  he  heard  ; yet  his  good  sense 
naturally  regarded  it  as  the  chatter  of  a spoiled  boy,  who 
strove  to  mortify  his  sister  in  the  point  which  seemed  most 
accessible  for  the  time.  But,  although  of  a temper  equal- 
ly slow  in  receiving  impressions,  and  obstinate  in  retaining 
them,  the  prattle  of  Henry  served  to  nourish  in  his  mind 
some  vague  suspicion,  that  his  present  engagement  might 
only  end  in  his  being  exposed  like  a conquered  enemy  in 
a Roman  triumph,  a captive  attendant  on  the  car  of  a 
victor,  who  meditated  only  the  satiating  his  pride  at  the 
expense  of  the  vanquished.  There  was,  we  repeat  it,  no 
real  ground  whatever  for  such  an  apprehension,  nor  could 
he  be  said  seriously  to  entertain  such  for  a moment.  In- 
deed, it  was  impossible  to  look  at  the  clear  blue  eye  of 
Lucy  Ashton,  and  entertain  the  slightest  permanent  doubt 
concerning  the  sincerity  of  her  disposition.  Still,  how- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


215 


ever,  conscious  pride  and  conscious  poverty  combined  to 
render  a mind  suspicious,  which,  in  more  fortunate  cir- 
cumstances, would  have  been  a stranger  to  that  as  well 
as  to  every  other  meanness.” 

They  reached  the  castle,  where  Sir  William  Ashton, 
who  had  been  alarmed  by  the  length  of  their  stay,  met 
them  in  the  hall.” 

“ Had  Lucy,”  he  said,  “ been  in  any  other  company 
than  that  of  one  who  had  shown  he  had  so  complete  power 
of  protecting  her,  he  confessed  he  should  have  been  very 
uneasy,  and  would  have  despatched  persons  in  quest  of 
them.  But,  in  the  company  of  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wpod,  he  knew  his  daughter  had  nothing  to  dread.” 

Lucy  commenced  some  apology  for  their  long  delay, 
but,  conscience-struck,  became  confused  as  she  proceed- 
ed ; and  when  Ravenswood,  coming  to  her  assistance, 
endeavoured  to  render  the  explanation  complete  and  sat- 
isfactory, he  only  involved  himself  in  the  same  disorder, 
like  one  who,  endeavouring  to  extricate  his  companion 
from  a slough,  entangles  himself  in  the  same  tenacious 
swamp.  It  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  confusion  of  the 
two  youthful  lovers  escaped  the  observation  of  the  wily 
lawyer,  accustomed,  by  habit  and  profession,  to  trace  hu- 
man nature  through  all  her  windings.  But  it  was  not  his 
present  policy  to  take  any  notice  of  what  he  observed. 
He  desired  to  hold  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  bound, 
but  wished  that  he  himself  should  be  free  ; and  it  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  his  plan  might  be  defeated  by  Lucy’s 
returning  the  passion  which  he  hoped  she  might  inspire. 
If  she  should  adopt  some  romantic  feeling  towards  Ra- 
venswood, in  which  circumstances,  or  the  positive  and  ab- 
solute opposition  of  Lady  Ashton,  might  render  it  unad- 
visable  to  indulge  her,  the  Lord  Keeper  conceived  they 
might  be  easily  superseded  and  annulled  by  a journey  to 
Edinburgh,  or  even  to  London,  a new  set  of  Brussels 
lace,  and  the  soft  whispers  of  half  a dozen  loyers,  anx- 
ious to  replace  him  whom  it  was  convenient  she  should 
renounce.  This  was  his  provision  for  the  worst  view  of 
the  case.  But,  according  to  its  more  probable  issue,  any 


216 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


passing  favour  she  might  entertain  for  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood,  might  require  encouragement  rather  than  re- 
pression. 

This  seemed  the  more  likely,  as  he  had  that  very  morn- 
ing, since  their  departure  from  the  castle,  received  a let- 
ter, the  contents  of  which  he  hastened  to  communicate  to 
Ravenswood.  A foot-post  had  arrived  with  a packet  to 
the  Lord  Keeper  from  that  friend  whom  we  have  already 
mentioned,  who  was  labouring  hard  under-hand  to  con- 
solidate a band  of  patriots,  at  the  head  of  whom  stood 
Sir  William’s  greatest  terror,  the  active  and  ambitious 

Marquis  of  A . The  success  of  this  convenient 

friend  had  been  such,  that  he  had  obtained  from  Sir  Wik 
liam,  not  indeed  a directly  favourable  answer,  but  certain- 
ly a most  patient  hearing.  This  he  had  reported  to  his 
principal,  who  had  replied,  by  the  ancient  French  adage, 
“ Chateau  qui  parle , et  femme  qui  ecoute , Vun  et  V autre 
va  se  rendre .”  A statesman  who  hears  you  propose  a 
change  of  measures  without  reply,  was,  according  to  the 
Marquis’s  opinion,  in  the  situation  of  the  fortress  which 
parleys,  and  the  lady  who  listens,  and  he  resolved  to  press 
the  siege  of  the  Lord  Keeper. 

The  packet,  therefore,  contained  a letter  from  his  friend 
and  ally,  and  another  from  himself  to  the  Lord  Keeper, 
frankly  offering  an  unceremonious  visit.  They  were 
crossing  the  country  to  go  to  the  southward- — the  roads 
were  indifferent — the  accommodation  of  the  inns  as  exe- 
crable as  possible— the  Lord  Keeper  had  been  long  ac- 
quainted intimately  with  one  of  his  correspondents,  and 
though  more  slightly  known  to  the  Marquis,  had  yet  enough 
of  his  lordship’s  acquaintance  to  render  the  visit  sufficient- 
ly natural,  and  to  shut  the  mouths  of  those  who  might  be 
disposed  to  impute  it  to  a political  intrigue.  He  instantly 
accepted  the  offered  visit,  determined,  however,  that  he 
would  not  pledge  himself  an  inch  farther  for  the  further- 
ance of  their  views  than  reason  (by  which  he  meant  his 
own  self-interest)  should  plainly  point  out  to  him  as  proper. 

Two  circumstances  particularly  delighted  him  ; the 
presence  of  Ravenswood,  and  the  absence  of  his  own 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


217 


lady.  By  having  the  former  under  his  roof,  he  conceiv- 
ed he  might  be  able  to  quash  all  such  hazardous  and  hos- 
tile proceedings  as  he  might  have  otherwise  been  engaged 
in,  under  the  patronage  of  the  Marquis  ; and  Lucy,  he 
foresaw,  would  make,  for  his  immediate  purpose  of  delay 
and  procrastination,  a much  better  mistress  of  his  family 
than  her  mother,  who  would,  he  was  sure,  in  some  shape 
or  other,  contrive  to  disconcert  his  political  schemes  by 
her  proud  and  implacable  temper. 

His  anxious  solicitations  that  the  Master  would  stay  to 
receive  his  kinsman,  were  of  course  readily  complied  with, 
since  the  eclair cissement  which  had  taken  place  at  the  Mer 
maiden’s  Fountain  had  removed  all  wish  for  sudden  de- 
parture. Lucy  and  Lockhard  had,  therefore,  orders  to 
provide  all  things  necessary  in  their  different  departments, 
for  receiving  the  expected  guests,  with  a pomp  and  dis- 
play of  luxury  very  uncommon  in  Scotland  at  that  re- 
mote period. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Marall.  Sir,  the  man  of  honour’s  come, 

Newly  alighted 

Overreach.  In  without  reply, 

And  do  as  I command. 

Is  the  loud  music  I gave  order  for 

Ready  to  receive  him  ? 

New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts. 

Sir  William  Ashton,  although  a man  of  sense,  legal 
information,  and  great  practical  knowledge  of  the  world, 
had  yet  some  points  of  character  which  corresponded 
better  with  the  timidity  of  his  disposition  and  the  supple 
arts  by  which  he  had  risen  in  the  world,  than  to  the  de- 
gree of  eminence  which  he  had  attained  ; as  they  tended 
to  show  an  original  mediocrity  of  understanding,  however 
19  VOL.  i. 


218 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


highly  it  had  been  cultivated,  and  a native  meanness  of 
disposition,  however  carefully  veiled.  He  loved  the  os- 
tentatious display  of  his  wealth,  less  as  a man  to  whom 
habit  has  made  it  necessary,  than  as  one  to  whom  it  is  still 
delightful  from  its  novelty.  The  most  trivial  details  did 
not  escape  him  ; and  Lucy  soon  learned  to  watch  the 
flush  of  scorn  which  crossed  Ravenswood’s  cheek,  when 
he  heard  her  father  gravely  arguing  with  Lockhard,  nay, 
even  with  the  old  housekeeper,  upon  circumstances  which, 
in  families  of  rank,  are  left  uncared  for,  because  it  is  sup- 
posed impossible  they  can  be  neglected. 

“ 1 could  pardon  Sir  William,”  said  Ravenswood  one 
evening  after  he  had  left  the  room,  “ some  general  anxi- 
ety upon  this  occasion,  for  the  Marquis’s  visit  is  an  hon- 
our, and  should  be  received  as  such  ; but  I am  worn  out 
by  these  miserable  minutiae  of  the  buttery,  and  the  larder, 
and  the  very  hen-coop — they  drive  me  beyond  my  pa- 
tience 5 1 would  rather  endure  the  poverty  of  Wolfs  Crag, 
than  be  pestered  with  the  wealth  of  Ravenswood  Castle.” 

“ And  yet,”  said  Lucy,  “ it  was  by  attention  to  these 
minutiae  that  my  father  acquired  the  property” 

“ Which  my  ancestors  sold  for  lack  of  it,”  answered 
Ravenswood.  “ Be  it  so  ; a porter  still  bears  but  a bur- 
then, though  the  burthen  be  of  gold.” 

Lucy  sighed  ; she  perceived  too  plainly  that  her  lover 
held  in  scorn  the  manners  and  habits  of  a father,  to  whom 
she  had  long  looked  up  as  her  best  and  most  partial  friend, 
whose  fondness  had  often  consoled  her  for  her  mother’s 
contemptuous  harshness. 

The  lovers  soon  discovered  that  they  differed  upon 
other  and  no  less  important  topics.  Religion,  the  mother 
of  peace,  was,  in  those  days  of  discord,  so  much  miscon- 
strued and  mistaken,  that  her  rules  and  forms  were  the 
subject  of  the  most  opposite  opinions  and  the  most  hostile 
animosities.  The  Lord  Keeper,  being  a whig,  was,  of 
course,  a Presbyterian,  and  had  found  it  convenient,  at 
different  periods,  to  express  greater  zeal  for  the  kirk,  than 
perhaps  he  really  felt.  His  family,  equally  of  course, 
were  trained  under  the  same  institution.  Ravenswood, 


THE  BRIBE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


219 


as  we  know,  was  a High-Church  man,  or  Episcopalian, 
and  frequently  objected  to  Lucy  the  fanaticism  of  some 
of  her  own  communion,  while  she  intimated,  rather  than 
expressed,  horror  at  the  latitudinarian  principles  which  she 
had  been  taught  to  think  connected  with  the  prelatical 
form  of  church-government. 

Thus,  although  their  mutual  affection  seemed  to  in- 
crease rather  than  to  be  diminished,  as  their  characters 
opened  more  fully  on  each  other,  the  feelings  of  each  were 
mingled  with  some  less  agreeable  ingredients.  Lucy  felt 
a secret  awe,  amid  all  her  affection  for  Ravenswood.  His 
soul  was  of  a higher,  prouder  character,  than  those  with 
whom  she  had  hitherto  mixed  in  intercourse  ; his  ideas 
were  more  fierce  and  free  ; and  he  contemned  many  of 
the  opinions  which  had  been  inculcated  upon  her,  as 
chiefly  demanding  her  veneration.  On  the  other  hand, 
Ravenswood  saw  in  Lucy  a soft  and  flexible  character, 
which  in  his  eyes  at  least,  seemed  too  susceptible  of  be- 
ing moulded  to  any  form  by  those  with  whom  she  lived. 
He  felt  that  his  own  temper  required  a partner  of  a more 
independent  spirit,  who  could  set  sail  with  him  on  his 
course  of  life,  resolved  as  himself  to  dare  indifferently  the 
storm  and  the  favouring  breeze.  But  Lucy  was  so  beau- 
tiful, so  devotedly  attached  to  him,  of  a temper  so  exqui- 
sitely soft  and  kind,  that,  while  he  could  have  wished  it 
were  possible  to  inspire  her  with  a greater  degree  of  firm- 
ness and  resolution,  and  while  he  sometimes  became  im- 
patient of  the  extreme  fear  which  she  expressed  of  their 
attachment  being  prematurely  discovered,  he  felt  that  the 
softness  of  a mind,  amounting  almost  to  feebleness,  ren- 
dered her  even  dearer  to  him,  as  a being  who  had  volun- 
tarily clung  to  him  for  protection,  and  made  him  the  ar- 
biter o»  her  fate  for  weal  or  woe.  His  feelings  towards 
her  at  such  moments,  were  those  which  have  been  since 
so  beautifully  expressed  by  our  immortal  Joanna  Baillie  : 

“ Thou  sweetest  thing. 

That  e’er  did  fix  its  lightly-fibred  sprays 

To  the  rude  rock,  ah  ! woulcTst  thou  cling  to  me  1 


220 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Rough  and  storm- worn  I am — yet  love  me  as 
Thou  truly  dost,  I will  love  thee  again 
With  true  and  honest  heart,  though  all  unmeet 
To  be  the  mate  of  such  sweet  gentleness/' 

Thus  the  very  points  in  which  they  differed,  seemed, 
in  some  measure,  to  ensure  the  continuance  of  their  mu- 
tual affection.  If,  indeed,  they  had  so  fully  appreciated 
each  other’s  character  before  the  burst  of  passion  in  which 
they  hastily  pledged  their  faith  to  each  other,  Lucy  might 
have  feared  Ravenswood  too  much  ever  to  have  loved 
him,  and  he  might  have  construed  her  softness  and  docile 
temper  as  imbecility,  rendering  her  unworthy  of  his  regard. 
But  they  stood  pledged  to  each  other  ; and  Lucy  only 
feared  that  her  lover’s  pride  might  one  day  teach  him  to 
regret  his  attachment ; Ravenswood,  that  a mind  so  duc- 
tile as  Lucy’s  might,  in  absence  or  difficulties,  be  induced, 
by  the  entreaties  or  influence  of  those  around  her,  to  re- 
nounce the  engagement  she  had  formed. 

“ Do  not  fear  it,”  said  Lucy,  when,  upon  one  occasion, 
a hint  of  such  suspicion  escaped  her  lover  ; “ the  mir- 
rors which  receive  the  reflection  of  all  successive  objects 
are  framed  of  hard  materials  like  glass  or  steel — the  softer 
substances,  when  they  receive  an  impression,  retain  it  un- 
defaced.” 

“ This  is  poetry,  Lucy,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ and  in 
poetry  there  is  always  fallacy,  and  sometimes  fiction.” 

“ Believe  me  then,  once  more,  in  honest  prose,”  said 
Lucy,  “ that,  though  I will  never  wed  man  without  the 
consent  of  my  parents,  yet  neither  force  nor  persuasion 
shall  dispose  of  my  hand  till  you  renounce  the  right  I have 
given  you  to  it.” 

The  lovers  had  ample  time  for  such  explanations. 
Henry  was  now  more  seldom  their  companion,  being  eith- 
er a most  unwilling  attendant  upon  the  lessons  of  his  tutor, 
or  a forward  volunteer  under  the  instructions  of  the  for- 
esters or  grooms.  As  for  the  Keeper,  his  mornings  were 
spent  in  his  study,  maintaining  correspondences  of  all 
kinds,  and  balancing  in  his  anxious  mind  the  various  in- 
telligence which  he  collected  from  every  quarter  concern- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


221 


ing  the  expected  change  of  Scottish  politics,  and  the  pro- 
bable strength  of  the  parties  who  were  about  to  struggle 
for  power.  At  other  times  he  busied  himself  about  ar- 
ranging, and  countermanding,  and  then  again  arranging, 
the  preparations  which  he  judged  necessary  for  the  re- 
ception of  the  Marquis  of  A , whose  arrival  had  been 

twice  delayed  by  some  necessary  cause  of  detention. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  various  avocations,  political 
and  domestic,  he  seemed  not  to  observe  how  much  his 
daughter  and  his  guest  were  thrown  into  each  other’s 
society,  and  was  censured  by  many  of  his  neighbours,  ac- 
cording to  the  fashion  of  neighbours  in  all  countries,  for 
suffering  such  an  intimate  connection  to  take  place  betwixt 
two  young  persons.  The  only  natural  explanation  was, 
that  he  designed  them  for  each  other  ; while,  in  truth,  his 
only  motive  was  to  temporize  and  procrastinate,  until  he 
should  discover  the  real  extent  of  the  interest  which  the 
Marquis  took  in  Ravenswood’s  affairs,  and  the  power 
which  he  was  likely  to  possess  of  advancing  them.  Until 
these  points  should  be  made  both  clear  and  manifest,  the 
Lord  Keeper  resolved  that  he  would  do  nothing  to  com- 
mit himself,  either  in  one  shape  or  other,  and,  like  many 
cunning  persons,  he  overreached  himself  deplorably. 

Amongst  those  who  had  been  disposed  to  censure,  with 
the  greatest  severity,  the  conduct  of  Sir  William  Ashton, 
in  permitting  the  prolonged  residence  of  Ravenswood  un- 
der his  roof,  and  his  constant  attendance  on  Miss  Ashton, 
was  the  new  Laird  of  Girnington,  and  his  faithful  squire 
and  bottle-holder,  personages  formerly  well  known  to  us 
by  the* names  of  Hayston  and  Bueklaw,  and  his  compan- 
ion Captain  Craigengelt.  The  former  had  already  suc- 
ceeded to  the  extensive  property  of  his  long-lived  grand- 
aunt, and  to  considerable  wealth  besides,  which  he  had 
employed  in  redeeming  his  paternal  acres,  (by  the  title 
appertaining  to  which  he  still  chose  to  be  designated,)  not- 
withstanding Captain  Craigengelt  had  proposed  to  him  a 
most  advantageous  mode  of  vesting  the  money  in  Law’s 
scheme,  which  was  just  then  set  abroach,  and  offered  his 
19*  VOL.  i. 


222 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD, 


services  to  travel  express  to  Paris  for  the  purpose.  But 
Bucklaw  had  so  far  derived  wisdom  from  adversity,  that 
he  would  listen  to  no  proposal  which  Craigengelt  could 
invent,  which  involved  the  slightest  tendency  to  risk  his 
newly-acquired  independence.  He  that  had  once  eat 
pease-bannocks,  drunk  sour  wine,  and  slept  in  the  secret 
chamber  at  Wolfs  Crag,  would,  he  said,  prize  good  cheer 
and  a soft  bed  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  take  special  care 
never  to  need  such  hospitality  again. 

Craigengelt,  therefore,  found  himself  disappointed  in 
the  first  hopes  he  had  entertained  of  making  a good  hand 
of  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw.  Still,  however,  h6  reaped 
many  advantages  from  his  friend’s  good  fortune.  Buck- 
law,  who  had  never  been  scrupulous  in  choosing  his 
companions,  was  accustomed  to,  and  entertained  by  a 
fellow,  whom  he  could  either  laugh  with  or  laugh  at  as  he 
had  a mind,  who  would  take,  according  to  Scottish  phrase, 
u the  bit  and  the  buffet,”  understood  all  sports,  whether 
within  or  without  doors,  and,  when  the  Laird  had  a mind 
for  a bottle  of  wine,  (no  infrequent  circumstance,)  was 
ahvays  ready  to  save  him  from  the  scandal  of  getting 
drunk  by  himself.  Upon  these  terms,  Craigengelt  was 
the  frequent,  almost  the  constant,  inmate  of  the  house  of 
Girnington. 

In  no  time,  and  under  no  possibility  of  circumstances, 
could  good  have  been  derived  from  such  an  intimacy, 
however  its  bad  consequences  might  be  qualified  by  the 
thorough  knowledge  which  Bucklaw  possessed  of  his  de- 
pendant’s character,  and  the  high  contempt  in  which  he 
held  it.  But,  as  circumstances  stood,  this  evil  communi- 
cation was  particularly  liable  to  corrupt  what  good  princi- 
ples nature  had  implanted  in  the  patron. 

Craigengelt  had  never  forgiven  the  scorn  with  which 
Ravenswood  had  torn  the  mask  of  courage  and  honesty 
from  his  countenance  ; and  to  exasperate  Bucklaw’s  re- 
sentment against  him,  was  the  safest  mode  of  revenge 
which  occurred  to  his  cowTardly,  yet  cunning  and  malig- 
nant disposition. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOH.  223 

He  brought  up,  on  all  occasions,  the  story  of  the  chal- 
lenge which  Ravenswood  had  declined  to  accept,  and  en- 
deavoured, by  every  possible  insinuation,  to  make  his 
patron  believe  that  his  honour  was  concerned  in  bringing 
that  matter  to  an  issue  by  a present  discussion  with  Ra- 
venswood. But  respecting  this  subject,  Bucklaw  imposed 
on  him,  at  length,  a peremptory  command  of  silence. 

“ I think,”  he  said,  “ the  Master  has  treated  me  unlike 
a gentleman,  and  I see  no  right  he  had  to  send  me  back 
a cavalier  answer  when  I demanded  the  satisfaction  of  one 
— But  he  gave  mejny  life  once — and,  in  looking  the  mat- 
ter over  at  present,  I put  myself  but  on  equal  terms  with 
him — should  he  cross  me  again,  I shall  consider  the  old 
accompt  as  balanced,  and  his  Mastership  will  do  well  to 
look  to  himself.” 

“ That  he  should,”  re-echoed  Craigengelt ; “ for  when 
you  are  in  practice,  Bucklaw,  1 would  bet  a magnum  you 
are  through  him  before  the  third  pass.” 

“ Then  you  know  nothing  of  the  matter,”  said  Buck- 
law,  “ and  you  never  saw  him  fence.” 

“ And  so  I know  nothing  of  the  matter  9 — a good  jest, 
I promise  you  ! — and  though  1 never  saw  Ravenswood 
fence,  have  I not  been  at  Monsieur  Sagoon’s  school,  who 
was  the  first  maitre  d’armes  at  Paris  ; and  have  I not  been 
at  Signor  Poco’s  at  Florence,  and  Meinherr  Durchstos- 
sen’s  at  Vienna,  and  have  I not  seen  all  their  play  9” 

“ I don’t  know  whether  you  have  or  not,”  said  Buck- 
lawT  ; “ but  what  about  it,  though  you  had  9” 

“ Only  that  I will  be  d — d if  ever  I saw  French,  Ital- 
ian, or  High-Dutchman  ever  make  foot,  hand,  and  eye, 
keep  time  half  so  well  as  you,  Bucklaw.” 

“ I believe  you  lie,  Craigie,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ how- 
eveV,  I can  hold  my  own,  both  with  single  rapier,  back- 
sword, sword  and  dagger,  broad-sword,  or  case  of  faul- 
chions — and  that’s  as  much  as  any  gentleman  need  know 
of  the  matter.” 

“ And  the  double  of  what  ninety-nine  out  of  a hundred 
know,”  said  Craigengelt  ; “ they  learn  to  change  a few 
thrusts  with  the  small-sword,  and  then,  forsooth,  they  un~ 


224 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


derstand  the  noble  art  of  defence ; Now,  when  I was  at 
Rouen  in  the  year  1695,  there  was  a Chevalier  de  Cha- 
pon  and  i went  to  the  Opera,  where  we  found  three  bits 
of  English  birkies” 

“ Is  it  a long  story  you  are  going  to  tell  said  Buck- 
law,  interrupting  him  without  ceremony. 

“ Just  as  you  like,”  answered  the  parasite,  “ for  we 
made  short  work  of  it.” 

“ Then  I like  it  short,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ is  it  serious 
or  merry  V9 

“ Devilish  serious,  I assure  you,  and  so  they  found  it ; 

for  the  chevalier  and  1” 

“ Then  I don’t  like  it  at  all,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ so  fill 
a brimmer  of  my  auld  auntie’s  claret,  rest  her  heart  ! 
And,  as  the  Hielandman  says,  Skioch  dock  na  sJciaill. ”* 
“ That  was  what  tough  old  Sir  Evan  Dhu  used  to  say 
to  me  when  I was  out  with  the  metall’d  lads  in  1689. 

‘ Craigengelt,’  he  used  to  say,  4 you  are  as  pretty  a fellow 
as  ever  held  steel  in  his  grip,  but  you  have  one  fault..’  ” 
“ If  he  had  known  you  as  long  as  I have  done,”  said 
Bucklaw,  “ he  would  have  found  out  some  twenty  more  ; 
but  hang  long  stories,  give  us  your  toast,  man.” 

Craigengelt  rose,  went  a tiptoe  to  the  door,  peeped  out, 
shut  it  carefully,  came  back  again — clapped  his  tarnished 
gold-laced  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  took  his  glass  in 
one  hand,  and  touching  the  hilt  of  his  hanger  with  the 
other,  named,  “ The  King  over  the  water.” 

“ I tell  you  what  it  is,  Captain  Craigengelt,”  said  Buck- 
law  ; “ I shall  keep  my  mind  to  myself  on  these  subjects, 
having  too  much  respect  for  the  memory  of  my  venerable 
aunt  Girnington  to  put  her  lands  and  tenements  in  the 
way  of  committing  treason  against  established  authority. 
Bring  me  King  James  to  Edinburgh,  Captain,  with  thirty 
thousand  men  at  his  back,  and  I’ll  tell  you  what  I think 
about  his  title  ; but  as  for  running  my  neck  into  a noose, 
and  my^good  broad  lands  into  the  statutory  penalties,  ‘ in 


* “ Cut  a drink  with  a tale  ;’7  equivalent  to  the  English  adage  of  “ booncom- 
panions;  don’t  preach  over  your  liquor.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


225 


that  case  made  and  provided,’  rely  upon  it  you  will  find 
me  no  such  fool.  So  when  you  mean  to  vapour  with 
your  hanger  and  your  dram-cup  in  support  of  treasonable 
toasts,  you  must  find  your  liquor  and  company  elsewhere.” 

“ Well,  then,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ name  the  toast  your- 
self, and  be  it  what  it  like,  I’ll  pledge  you  were  it  a mile 
to  the  bottom.” 

“ And  I’ll  give  you  a toast  that  deserves  it,  my  boy,” 
said  Bucklaw  ; “ what  say  you  to  Miss  Lucy  Ashton  9” 

“ Up  with  it,”  said  the  captain,  as  he  tossed  off  his 
brimmer,  “ the  bonniest  lass  in  Lothian — What  a pity  the 
old  sneck-drawing  whigamore,  her  father,  is  about  to  throw 
her  away  upon  that  rag  of  pride  and  beggary,  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood.” 

“ That’s  not  quite  so  clear,”  said  Bucklaw,  in  a tone, 
which,  though  it  seemed  indifferent,  excited  his  compan- 
ion’s eager  curiosity  ; and  not  that  only,  but  also  his  hope 
of  working  himself  into  some  sort  of  confidence,  which 
might  make  him  necessary  to  his  patron,  being  by  no 
means  satisfied  to  rest  on  mere  sufferance,  if  he  could  form 
by  art  or  industry  a more  permanent  title  to  his  favour. 

“ I thought,”  said  he,  after  a moment’s  pause,  “ that 
was  a settled  matter — they  are  continually  together,  and 
nothing  else  is  spoken  of  betwixt  Lammerlaw  and  Trap- 
rain.” 

“ They  may  say  what  they  please,”  replied  his  patron, 
“ but  I know  better,  and  I’ll  give  you  Miss  Lucy  Ashton’s 
health  again,  my  boy.” 

“ And  I would  drink  it  on  my  knee,”  said  Craigengelt, 
“ if  I thought  the  girl  had  the  spirit  to  jilt  that  d — d son 
of  a Spaniard.” 

“ I am  to  request  you  will  not  use  the  word  jilt  and 
Miss  Ashton’s  name  together,”  said  Bucklaw,  gravely. 

“ Jilt,  did  I say  9 — discard,  my  lad  of  acres — by  Jove 
I meant  to  say  discard,”  replied  Craigengelt,  “ and  I hope 
she’ll  discard  him  like  a small  card  at  piquet,  and  take  in 
the  King  of  Hearts,  my  boy — But  yet” 

<c  But  what  9”  said  his  patron. 


226 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ But  yet  I know  for  certain  they  are  hours  together 
alone,  and  in  the  woods  and  the  fields.” 

“ That’s  her  foolish  father’s  dotage — that  will  be  soon 
put  out  of  the  lass’s  head,  if  it  ever  gets  into  it,”  answer- 
ed Bucklaw.  “ And  now  fill  your  glass  again,  Captain, 
I am  going  to  make  you  happy — I am  going  to  let  you 
into  a secret — a plot — a noosing  plot — only  the  noose  is 
but  typical.” 

“ A marrying  matter  said  Craigengelt,  and  his  jaw 
fell  as  he  asked  the  question  ; for  he  suspected  that  mat- 
rimony would  render  his  situation  at  Girnington  much 
more  precarious  than  during  the  jolly  days  of  his  patron’s 
bachelorhood. 

“ Ay,  a marriage,  man,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ but  where- 
fore droops  thy  mighty  spirit,  and  why  grow  the  rubies 
on  thy  cheek  so  pale  The  board  will  have  a corner, 
and  the  corner  will  have  a trencher,  and  the  trencher  will 
have  a glass  beside  it  ; and  the  board-end  shall  be  filled, 
and  the  trencher  and  the  glass  shall  be  replenished  for 
thee,  if  all  the  petticoats  in  Lothian  had  sworn  the  con- 
trary— What,  man  ! I am  not  the  boy  to  put  myself  into 
leading  strings.” 

“ So  says  many  an  honest  fellow,”  said  Craigengelt, 
u and  so  said  some  of  my  special  friends  ; but,  curse  me 
if  I know  the  reason,  the  women  could  never  bear  me, 
and  always  contrived  to  trundle  me  out  of  favour  before 
the  honey-moon  was  over.” 

“ If  you  could  have  kept  your  ground  till  that  was 
over,  you  might  have  made  a good  year’s  pension,”  said 
Bucklaw. 

“ But  I never  could,”  answered  the  dejected  parasite  ; 
“ there  was  my  Lord  Castle-Cuddy — we  were  hand  and 
glove — I rode  his  horses — borrowed  money,  both  for  him 
and  from  him — trained  his  hawks,  and  taught  him  how  to 
lay  his  bets  ; and  when  he  took  a fancy  of  marrying,  I 
married  him  to  Katie  Glegg,  whom  [ thought  myself  as 
sure  of  as  man  could  be  of  woman.  Egad,  she  had  me 
trowled  out  of  the  house,  as  if  I had  run  on  wheels, 
within  the  first  fortnight.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


227 


“ Well !”  replied  Bucklaw,  “ I think  I have  nothing  of 
Castle-Cuddy  about  me,  or  Lucy  of  Katie  Glegg.  But 
you  see  the  thing  will  go  on  whether  you  like  it  or  no — • 
the  only  question  is,  will  you  be  useful  9” 

“ Useful  9 — and  to  thee,  my  lad  of  lands,  ray  darling 
boy,  whom  I would  tramp  bare-footed  through  the  world 
for  1 — name  time,  place,  mode,  and  circumstance,  and  see 
if  I will  not  be  useful  in  all  uses  that  can  be  devised.” 

“ Why,  then,  you  must  ride  two  hundred  miles  for  me,” 
said  the  patron. 

“ A thousand,  and  call  them  a flea’s  leap,”  answered 
the  dependant  ; “ I’ll  cause  saddle  my  horse  directly.” 

“ Better  stay  till  you  know  where  you  are  to  go,  and 
what  you  are  to  do,”  quoth  Bucklaw.  “ You  know  I 
have  a kinswoman  in  Northumberland*  Lady  Blinkensop 
by  name,  whose  acquaintance  1 had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  in  the  period  of  my  poverty,  but  the  light  of  whose 
countenance  shone  forth  upon  me  when  the  sun  of  my 
prosperity  began  to  arise.” 

“ D — n all  such  double-faced  jades,”  exclaimed  Craig- 
engelt,  heroically  ; “ this  I will  say  for  John  Craigengelt, 
that  he  is  his  friend’s  friend  through  good  report  and  bad 
report,  poverty  and  riches  ; and  you  know  something  of 
that  yourself,  Bucklaw.” 

“ I have  not  forgot  your  merits,”  said  his  patron  ; “ I 
do  remember,  that,  in  my  extremities,  you  had  a mind  to 
crimp  me  for  the  service  of  the  French  King,  or  of  the 
Pretender  ; and,  moreover,  that  you  afterwards  lent  me 
a score  of  pieces,  when,  as  I firmly  believe,  you  had  heard 
the  news  that  old  Lady  Girnington  had  a touch  of  the  dead 
palsy.  But  don’t  be  down-cast,  John  ; I believe,  after 
all,  you  like  me  very  well  in  your  way,  and  it  is  my  mis- 
fortune to  have  no  better  counsellor  at  present. — To  re- 
turn to  this  Lady  Blinkensop,  you  must  know  she  is  a 
close  confederate  of  Duchess  Sarah.” 

“ What,  of  Sail  Jennings  !”  exclaimed  Craigengelt  ; 
“ then  she  must  be  a good  one.” 

“ Hold  your  tongue,  and  keep  your  Tory  rants  to  your- 
self, if  it  be  possible,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ I tell  you,  that 


228 


TAXES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


through  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  has  this  Northum- 
brian cousin  of  mine  become  a crony  of  Lady  Ashton, 
the  Keeper’s  wife,  or,  I may  say  the  Lord  Keeper’s  Lady 
Keeper,  and  she  has  favoured  Lady  Blinkensop  with  a 
visit  on  her  return  from  London,  and  is  just  now  at  her  old 
mansion-house  on  the  banks  of  the  Wansbeck.  Now,  sir, 
as  it  has  been  the  use  and  wont  of  these  ladies  to  consider 
their  husbands  as  of  no  importance  in  the  management  of 
their  own  families,  it  has  been  their  present  pleasure,  with- 
out consulting  Sir  William  Ashton,  to  put  on  the  tapis  a 
matrimonial  alliance,  to  be  concluded  between  Lucy  Ash- 
ton and  my  own  right  honourable  self,  Lady  Ashton  act- 
ing as  self-constituted  plenipotentiary  on  the  part  of  her 
daughter  and  husband,  and  Mother  Blinkensop,  equally 
unaccredited,  doing  me  the  honour  to  be  my  representa- 
tive. You  may  suppose  I was  a little  astonished  when  I 
found  that  a treaty,  in  which  I was  so  considerably  inter- 
ested, had  advanced  a good  way  before  I was  even  con- 
sulted.” 

“ Capot  me  if  I think  that  was  according  to  the  rules 
of  the  game,”  said  his  confidant  ; “ and  pray,  what  an- 
swer did  you  return 

“ W"hy,  my  first  thought  was  to  send  the  treaty  to  the 
devil,  and  the  negociators  along  with  it,  for  a couple  of 
meddling  old  women  ; my  next  was  to  laugh  very  hearti- 
ly ; and  my  third  and  last  was  a settled  opinion  that  the 
thing  was  reasonable,  and  Would  suit  me  well  enough.” 

“ Why,  I thought  you  had  never  seen  the  wench  but 
once — and  then  she  had  her  riding-mask  on — I am  sure 
you  told  me  so.” 

“ Ay — but  I liked  her  very  well  then.  And  Ravens- 
wood’s  dirty  usage  of  me — shutting  me  out  of  doors  to 
dine  with  the  lacqueys,  because  he  had  the  Lord  Keeper, 
forsooth,  and  his  daughter,  to  be  guests  in  his  beggarly 
castle  of  starvation — D — n me,  Craigengelt,  if  I ever  for- 
give him  till  I play  him  as  good  a trick.” 

“ No  more  you  should,  if  you  are  a lad  of  mettle,” 
said  Craigengelt,  the  matter  now  taking  a turn  in  which 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


229 


he  could  sympathize  ; “ and  if  you  carry  this  wench  from 
him,  it  will  break  his  heart.” 

“ That  it  will  not,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ his  heart  is  all 
steeled  over  with  reason  and  philosophy — things  that  you, 
Craigie,  know  nothing  about  more  than  myself,  God  help 
me — But  it  will  break  his  pride  though,  and  that’s  what 
I’m  driving  at.” 

“ Distance  me,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ but  I know  the 
reason  now  of  his  unmannerly  behaviour  at  his  old  tumble- 
down  tower  yonder — Ashamed  of  your  company  9 — no, 
no  ! — Gad,  he  was  afraid  you  would  cut  in  and  carry  off 
the  girl.” 

“ Eh  ! Craigengelt 9”  said  Bucklaw — “ do  you  really 
think  so  9 — no,  no  ! — he  is  a devilish  deal  prettier  man 
than  I am.” 

“ Who — he  9”  exclaimed  the  parasite — “ he  is  as 
black  as  the  crook  ; and  for  his  size — he’s  a tall  fellow,  to 

be  sure — but  give  me  a tight,  stout,  middle-sized” 

“ Plague  on  thee  !”  said  Bucklaw,  interrupting  him, 
“ and  on  me  for  listening  to  you  ! — you  would  say  as 
much  if  I were  hunch-backed.  But  as  to  Ravenswood 
— he  has  kept  no  terms  with  me — I’ll  keep  none  with  him 
— if  I can  win  this  girl  from  him,  I will  win  her.” 

“ Win  her  9 — ’sblood,  you  shall  win  her,  point,  quint, 
and  quatorze,  my  king  of  trumps — you  shall  pique,  re- 
pique, and  capot  him.” 

“ Prithee,  stop  thy  gambling  cant  for  one  instant,”  said 
Bucklaw.  Things  have  come  thus  far,  that  I have  en- 
tertained the  proposal  of  my  kinswoman,  agreed  to  the 
terms  of  jointure,  amount  of  fortune,  and  so  forth,  and 
that  the  affair  is  to  go  forward  when  Lady  Ashton  comes 
down,  for  she  takes  her  husband,  her  daughter  and  her 
son  in  her  own  hand.  Now  they  want  me  to  send  up  a 
confidential  person  with  some  writings.” 

“ By  this  good  wine,  I’ll  ride  to  the  end  of  the  world 
— the  very  gates  of  Jericho,  and  the  judgment-seat  of 
Prester  John,  for  thee,”  ejaculated  the  Captain. 

20  vol.  i. 


230 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Why,  I believe  you  would  do  something  for  me,  and 
a great  deal  for  yourself.  Now,  any  one  could  carry  the 
writings  ; but  you  will  have  a little  more  to  do  ; you  must 
contrive  to  drop  out  before  my  Lady  Ashton,  just  as  if  it 
were  a matter  of  little  consequence,  the  residence  of  Ra- 
venswood  at  her  husband’s  house,  and  his  close  inter- 
course with  Miss  Ashton  ; and  you  may  tell  her,  that  all 

the  country  talks  of  a visit  from  the  Marquis  of  A , 

as  it  is  supposed,  to  make  up  the  match  betwixt  Ravens- 
wood  and  her  daughter.  I should  like  to  hear  what  she 
says  to  all  this ; for,  rat  me,  if  I have  any  idea  of  starting 
for  the  plate  at  all  if  Ravenswood  is  to  win  the  race,  and 
he  has  odds  against  me  already.” 

“ Never  a bit — the  wench  has  too  much  sense — and  in 
that  belief  I drink  her  health  the  third  time  ; and,  were 
time  and  place  fitting,  I would  drink  it  on  bended  knees, 
and  he  that  would  not  pledge  me,  I would  make  his  guts 
garter  his  stockings.” 

“ Hark  ye,  Craigengelt ; as  you  are  going  into  the  so- 
ciety of  women  of  rank,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ I’ll  thank  you  to 
forget  your  strange  blackguard  oaths  and  damme’s — I’ll 
write  to  them,  though,  that  you  are  a blurt  untaught  fellow.” 
“ Ay,  ay,”  replied  Craigengelt  ; “ a plain,  blunt,  hon- 
est, down-right  soldier.” 

“ Not  too  honest,  nor  too  much  of  the  soldier  neither ; 
but,  such  as  thou  art,  it  is  my  luck  to  need  thee,  for  I 
must  have  spurs  put  to  Lady  Ashton’s  motions.” 

“ I’ll  dash  them  up  to  the  rowel-heads,”  said  Craigen- 
gelt ; “ she  shall  come  here  at  the  gallop,  like  a cow 
chased  by  a whole  nest  of  hornets,  and  her  tail  twisted 
over  her  rump  like  a corkscrew.” 

“ And  hear  ye,  Cragie,”  said  Bucklaw  ; “ your  boots 
and  doublet  are  good  enough  to  drink  in,  as  the  man 
says  in  the  play,  but  they  are  somewhat  too  greasy  for 
tea-table  service — prithee,  get  thyself  a little  better  rigged 
out,  and  here  is  to  pay  all  charges.” 

“ Nay,  Bucklaw — on  my  soul,  man — you  use  me  ill 
— however,”  added  Craigengelt,  pocketing  the  money, 


THE  BRIDE  OE  IAMMERMOOR. 


231 


i6  if  you  will  have  me  so  far  indebted  to  you,  I must  be 
conforming.” 

“ Well,  horse  and  away  !”  said  the  patron,  “ so  soon 
as  you  have  got  your  riding  livery  in  trim.  You  may 
ride  the  black  crop-ear — and,  hark  ye,  I’ll  make  you 
present  of  him  to  boot.” 

“ 1 drink  to  the  good  luck  of  my  mission,”  answered 
the  ambassador,  “ in  a half-pint  bumper.” 

“ I thank  ye,  Craigie,  and  pledge  you — I see  nothing 
against  it  but  the  father  or  the  girl  taking  a tantrum,  and 
I am  told  the  mother  can  wind  them  both  round  her  little 
finger.  Take  care  not  to  affront  her  with  any  of  your 
Jacobite  jargon.” 

“ O aj^true — she  is  a whig,  and  a friend  of  old  Sail 
of  Marlborough — thank  my  stars,  I can  hoist  any  colours 
at  a pinch,  I have  fought  as  hard  under  John  Churchill 
as  ever  I did  under  Dundee  or  the  Duke  of  Berwick.” 

“ I verily  believe  you,  Craigie,”  said  the  lord  of  the 
mansion  y “ but,  Craigie,  do  you,  pray,  step  Jown  to  the 
cellar  and  fetch  us  up  a bottle  of  the  burgundy,  1678 — 
it  is  in  the  fourth  bin  from  the  right-hand  turn — And  I 
say,  Craigie — you  may  fetch  up  half-a-dozen  whilst  you 
are  about  it — Egad,  we’ll  make  a night  on’t.” 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

And  soon  they  espied  the  merry-men  green. 

And  eke  the  coach  and  four. 

Duke  upon  Duke. 

Craigengelt  set  forth  on  his  mission,  so  soon  as  his 
equipage  was  complete,  prosecuted  his  journey  with  all 
diligence,  and  accomplished  his  commission  with  all  the 
dexterity  for  which  Bucklaw  had  given  him  credit.  As 
he  arrived  with  credentials  from  Mr.  Hayston  of  Buck- 
law,  he  was  extremely  welcome  to  both  ladies  ; and  those 


232 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


who  are  prejudiced  in  favour  of  a new  acquaintance,  can, 
for  a time  at  least,  discover  excellences  in  his  very  faults, 
and  perfections  in  his  deficiencies.  Although  both  ladies 
were  accustomed  to  good  society,  yet,  being  pre-deter- 
mined  to  find  out  an  agreeable  and  well-behaved  gentle- 
man in  Mr.  Hayston’s  friend,  they  succeeded  wonderful- 
ly in  imposing  on  themselves.  It  is  true  that  Craigengelt 
was  now  handsomely  dressed,  and  that  was  a point  of  no 
small  consequence.  But,  independent  of  outward  show, 
his  blackguard  impudence  of  address  was  construed  into 
honourable  bluntness,  becoming  his  supposed  military 
profession  ; his  hectoring  passed  for  courage,  and  his 
sauciness  for  wit.  Lest,  however,  any  one  should  think 
this  a violation  of  probability,  we  must  add,  in  fairness  to 
the  two  ladies,  that  their  discernment  was  greatly  blinded, 
and  their  favour  propitiated,  by  the  opportune  arrival  of 
Captain  Craigengelt  in  the  moment  when  they  were  long- 
ing for  a third  hand  to  make  a party  at  tredrille,  in  which, 
as  in  all  games,  whether  of  chance  or  skill,  that  worthy 
person  was  a great  proficient. 

When  he  found  himself  established  in  favour,  his  next 
point  was  how  best  to  use  it  for  the  furtherance  of  his 
patron’s  views.  He  found  Lady  Ashton  prepossessed 
strongly  in  favour  of  the  motion,  which  Lady  Blinkensop, 
partly  from  regard  to  her  kinsman,  partly  from  the  spirit 
of  match-making,  had  not  hesitated  to  propose  to  her  ; 
so  that  his  task  was  an  easy  one.  Bucklaw,  reformed 
from  his  prodigality,  was  just  the  sort  of  husband  which 
she  desired  to  have  for  her  Shepherdess  of  Lammer- 
moor;  and  while  the  marriage  gave  her  fortune,  and  a 
gentleman  for  her  husband,  Lady  Ashton  was  of  opinion 
that  her  destinies  would  be  fully  and  most  favourably  ac- 
complished. It  so  chanced,  also,  that  Bucklaw,  among 
his  new  acquisitions,  had  gained  the  management  of  a 
little  political  interest  in  a neighbouring  county,  where  the 
Douglas  family  originally  held  large  possessions.  It  was 
one  of  the  bosom-hopes  of  Lady  Ashton,  that  her  eldest 
son,  Sholto,  should  represent  this  county  in  the  British 
Parliament,  and  she  saw  this  alliance  with  Bucklaw  as  a 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


233 


circumstance  which  might  be  highly  favourable  to  her 
wishes. 

Craigengelt,  who  in  his  way  by  no  means  wanted  sa- 
gacity, no  sooner  discovered  in  what  quarter  the  wind  of 
Lady  Ashton’s  wishes  sat,  than  he  trimmed  his  course 
accordingly.  “ There  was  little  to  prevent  Bucklaw 
himself  from  sitting  for  the  county — he  must  carry  the 
heat — must  walk  the  course.  Two  cousins-german — six 
more  distant  kinsmen,  his  factor  and  his  chamberlain, 
were  all  hollow  votes — and  the  Girnington  interest  had 
always  carried,  betwixt  love  and  fear,  about  as  many  more 
—But  Bucklaw  cared  no  more  about  riding  the  first 
horse,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  than  he,  Craigengelt,  did 
about  a game  at  birkie— it  was  a pity  his  interest  was  not 
in  good  guidance.” 

All  this  Lady  Ashton  drank  in  with  willing  and  atten- 
tive ears,  resolving  internally  to  be  herself  the  person 
who  should  take  the  management  of  the  political  influ- 
ence of  her  destined  son-in-law,  for  the  benefit  of  her 
eldest  born,  Sholto,  and  all  other  parties  concerned. 

When  he  found  her  ladyship  thus  favourably  disposed, 
the  Captain  proceeded,  to  use  his  employer’s  phrase,  to 
set  spurs  to  her  resolution,  by  hinting  at  the  situation  of 
matters  at  Ravenswood  Castle,  the  long  residence  which 
the  heir  of  that  family  had  made  with  the  Lord  Keeper, 
and  the  reports  which  (though  he  would  be  d — d ere  he 
gave  credit  to  any  of  them)  had  been  idly  circulated  in 
the  neighbourhood.  It  wras  not  the  Captain’s  cue  to  ap- 
pear himself  to  be  uneasy  on  the  subject  of  these  rumours ; 
but  he  easily  saw  from  Lady  Ashton’s  flushed  cheek,  hes- 
itating voice,  and  flashing  eye,  that  she  had  caught  the 
alarm  which  he  intended  to  communicate.  She  had  not 
heard  from  her  husband  so  often  or  so  regularly  as  she 
thought  him  bound  in  duty  to  have  written  ; and  of  this 
very  interesting  intelligence,  concerning  his  visit  to  the 
Tower  of  Wolfs  Crag,  and  the  guest  whom,  with  such 
cordiality,  he  had  received  at  Ravenswood  Castle,  he  had 
suffered  his  lady  to  remain  altogether  ignorant,  until  she 
20*  vol.  i. 


234  TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 

now  learned  it  by  the  chance  information  of  a stranger. 
Such  concealment  approached,  in  her  apprehension,  to  a 
misprision,  at  least,  of  treason,  if  not  to  actual  rebellion 
against  her  matrimonial  authority  ; and  in  her  inward  soul 
did  she  swear  to  take  vengeance  on  the  Lord  Keeper,  as 
on  a subject  detected  in  meditating  revolt.  Her  indigna- 
tion burned  the  more  fiercely,  as  she  found  herself  oblig- 
ed to  suppress  it  in  presence  of  Lady  Blinkensop,  the 
kinswoman,  and  of  Craigengelt,  the  confidential  friend  of 
Bucklaw,  of  whose  alliance  she  now  became  trebly  de- 
sirous, since  it  occurred  to  her  alarmed  imagination,  that 
her  husband  might,  in  his  policy  or  timidity,  prefer  that 
of  Ravenswood. 

The  Captain  was  engineer  enough  to  discover  that  the 
train  was  fired  ; and  therefore  heard,  in  the  course  of  the 
same  day,  without  the  least  surprise,  that  Lady  Ashton 
had  resolved  to  abridge  her  visit  to  Lady  Blinkensop,  and 
set  forth  with  the  peep  of  morning  on  her  return  to  Scot- 
land, using  all  the  despatch  which  the  state  of  the  roads, 
and  the  mode  of  travelling  would  possibly  permit. 

Unhappy  Lord  Keeper  ! — little  was  he  aware  what  a 
storm  was  travelling  towards  him  in  all  the  speed  with  which 
an  old-fashioned  coach  and  six  could  possibly  achieve 
its  journey.  He,  like  Don  Gayferos,  “ forgot  his  lady 
fair  and  true,”  and  was  only  anxious  about  the  expected 

visit  of  the  Marquis  of  A . Soothfast  tidings  had 

assured  him  that  this  nobleman  was  at  length  and  without 
fail,  to  honour  his  castle  at  one  in  the  afternoon,  being  a 
late  dinner-hour  ; and  much  was  the  bustle  in  conse- 
quence of  the  annunciation.  The  Lord  Keeper  travers- 
ed the  chambers,  held  consultation  with  the  butler  in  the 
cellars,  and  even  ventured  at  the  risk  of  a demelee  with  a 
cook,  a person  of  spirit  lofty  enough  to  scorn  the  admo- 
nitions of  Lady  Ashton  herself,  to  peep  into  the  kitchen. 
Satisfied,  at  length,  that  every  thing  was  in  as  active  a train 
of  preparation  as  was  possible,  he  summoned  Ravens- 
wood and  his  daughter  to  walk  upon  the  terrace,  for  the 
purpose  of  watching,  from  that  commanding  position,  the 
earliest  symptoms  of  his  lordship’s  approach.  For  this 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  235 

purpose,  with  slow  and  idle  step,  he  paraded  the  terrace, 
which,  flanked  with  a heavy  stone  battlement,  stretched 
in  front  of  the  castle,  upon  a level  with  the  first  story ; 
while  visiters  found  access  to  the  court  by  a projecting 
gate-way,  the  bartizan  or  flat-leaded  roof  of  which  was 
accessible  from  the  terrace  by  an  easy  flight  of  low  and 
and  broad  steps.  The  whole  bore  a resemblance  partly 
to  a castle,  partly  to  a nobleman’s  seat  ; and  though  cal- 
culated, in  some  respects,  for  defence,  evinced  that  it  had 
been  constructed  under  a sense  of  the  power  and  secu- 
rity of  the  ancient  Lords  of  Ravenswood. 

This  pleasant  walk  commanded  a beautiful  and  exten- 
sive view.  But  what  was  most  to  our  present  purpose, 
there  were  seen  from  the  terrace  two  roads,  one  leading 
from  the  east,  and  one  from  the  westward,  which,  cross- 
ing a ridge  opposed  to  the  eminence  on  which  the  castle 
stood,  at  different  angles,  gradually  approached  each  oth- 
er, until  they  joined  not  far  from  the  gate  of  the  avenue. 
It  was  to  the  westward  approach  that  the  Lord  Keeper, 
from  a sort  of  fidgetting  anxiety,  his  daughter,  from  com- 
plaisance to  him,  and  Ravenswood,  though  feeling  some 
symptoms  of  internal  impatience,  out  of  complaisance  to 
his  daughter,  directed  their  eyes  to  see  the  precursors  of 
the  Marquis’s  approach. 

These  were  not  long  of  presenting  themselves.  Two 
running  footmen,  dressed  in  white,  with  black  jockey- 
caps,  and  long  staffs  in  their  hands,  headed  the  train  ; and 
such  was  their  agility,  that  they  found  no  difficulty  in 
keeping  the  necessary  advance,  which  the  etiquette  of 
their  station  required,  before  the  carriage  and  horsemen. 
Onward  they  came  at  a long  swinging  trot,  arguing  un- 
wearied speed  in  their  long-breathed  calling.  Such  run- 
ning footmen  are  often  alluded  to  in  old  plays,  (I  would 
particularly  instance  “ Middleton’s  Mad  World  my  Mas- 
ters,”) and  perhaps  may  be  still  remembered  by  some 
old  persons  in  Scotland,  as  part  of  the  retinue  of  the  an- 
cient nobility  when  travelling  in  full  ceremony.*  Be- 


* Hereupon,  I,  Jedediah  Cleishbotham,  crave  leave  to  remark,  prime,  which 
signifies,  in  the  first  place,  that,  having  in  vain  inquired  at  the  Circulating  Li- 


236 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


hind  these  glancing  meteors,  who  footed  it  as  if  the 
Avenger  of  Blood  had  been  behind  them,  came  a cloud 
of  dust,  raised  by  riders  who  preceded,  attended,  or  fol- 
lowed, the  state-carriage  of  the  Marquis. 

The  privilege  of  nobility,  in  these  days,  had  something 
in  it  impressive  on  the  imagination.  The  dresses,  and 
liveries,  and  number  of  their  attendants,  their  style  of 
travelling,  the  imposing  and  almost  warlike  air  of  the  arm- 
ed men  who  surrounded  them,  placed  them  far  above  the 
laird,  who  travelled  with  his  brace  of  footmen  ; and  as  to 
rivalry  from  the  mercantile  part  of  the  community,  these 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  imitating  the  state  equi- 
page of  the  Sovereign.  At  present  it  is  different  ; and 
I myself,  Peter  Pattieson,  in  a late  journey  to  Edinburgh, 
had  the  honour,  in  the  mail-coach  phrase,  to  “ change  a 
leg”  with  a peer  of  the  realm.  It  was  not  so  in  the  days 
of  which  I write  ; and  the  Marquis’s  approach,  so  long 
expected  in  vain,  now  took  place  in  the  full  pomp  of  an- 
cient aristocracy.  Sir  William  Ashton  was  so  much  in- 
terested in  what  he  beheld,  and  in  considering  the  cere- 
monial of  reception  in  case  any  circumstance  had  been 
omitted,  that  he  scarce  heard  his  son  Henry  exclaim, 
u there  is  another  coach  and  six  coming  down  the  east 
road,  papa — will  they  both  belong  to  the  Marquis  of 
A- V9 


brary  in  Gandercleugh,  albeit  it  aboundeth  in  similar  vanities,  for  this  samyn 
Middleton  and  his  Mad  World,  it  was  at  length  shown  unto  me  amongst  other 
ancient  fooleries,  carefully  compiled  by  one  Dodsley,  who,  doubtless,  hath  his 
reward  for  neglect  of  precious  time  ; and  having  misused  so  much  of  mine  as 
was  necessary  for  the  purpose,  1 therein  found  that  a play-man  is  brought  in  as 
a footman,  whom  a knight  is  made  to  greet  facetiously  with  the  epithet  of  “ lin- 
en stockings,  and  three-score  miles  a day.” 

Secunclo,  (which  is  secondly  in  the  vernacular,)  under  Mr.  Pattieson’s  favour, 
some  men  not  altogether  so  old  as  he  would  represent  them,  do  remember  this 
species  of  menial,  or  fore-runner.  In  evidence  of  which,  I,  Jedediah  Cleishbo- 
tham,  though  mine  eyes  yet  do  me  good  service,  remember  me  to  have  seen 
one  of  this  tribe  clothed  in  white,  and  bearing  a staff,  who  ran  daily  before  the 
state-coach  of  the  umquhile  John,  Earl  of  Hopeton,  father  of  this  Earl,  Charles, 
that  now  is  ; unto  whom  it  may  be  justly  said,  that  Renown  playeth  the  part 
of  a running  footman,  or  precursor  ; and,  as  the  poet  singeth — 

u Mars  standing  by  asserts  his  quarrel, 

And  fame  flies  after  with  a laurel.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


237 


At  length,  when  the  youngster  had  fairly  compelled  his 
attention  by  pulling  his  sleeve, 

u He  turned  his  eyes,  and,  as  he  ♦urn;d,  survey'd 
An  awful  vision'7 

Sure  enough,  another  coach  and  six,  with  four  servants 
or  out-riders  in  attendance,  was  descending  the  hill  from 
the  eastward,  at  such  a pace  as  made  it  doubtful  which 
of  the  carriages  thus  approaching  from  different  quarters 
should  first  reach  the  gate  at  the  extremity  of  the  avenue. 
The  one  coach  was  green,  the  other  blue  ; and  not  the 
green  and  blue  chariots  in  the  Circus  of  Rome  or  Con- 
stantinople excited  more  turmoil  among  the  citizens  than 
the  double  apparition  occasioned  in  the  mind  of  the  Lord 
Keeper.  We  all  remember  the  terrible  exclamation  of 
the  dying  profligate,  when  a friend,  to  destroy  what  he 
supposed  the  hypochondriac  idea  of  a spectre  appearing 
in  a certain  shape  at  a given  hour,  placed  before  him  a 
person  dressed  up  in  the  manner  described.  “ Mon 
Dieu  /”  said  the  expiring  sinner,  who,  it  seems,  saw  both 
the  real  and  polygraphic  apparition — “ II  y en  est  deux  /” 

The  surprise  of  the  Lord  Keeper  was  scarcely  less 
unpleasing  at  the  duplication  of  the  unexpected  arrival  ; 
his  mind  misgave  him  strangely.  There  was  no  neigh- 
bour who  would  have  approached  so  unceremoniously, 
at  a time  when  ceremony  was  held  in  such  respect. 
It  must  be  Lady  Ashton,  said  his  conscience,  and  follow- 
ed up  the  hint  with  an  anxious  anticipation  of  the  pur- 
pose of  her  sudden  and  unannounced  return.  He  felt 
that  he  was  caught  “ in  the  manner.”  That  the  compa- 
ny in  which  she  had  so  unluckily  surprised  him  was  like- 
ly to  be  highly  distasteful  to  her,  there  was  no  question  ; 
and  the  only  hope  which  remained  for  him  wTas  her  high 
sense  of  dignified  propriety,  which,  he  trusted,  might 
prevent  a public  explosion.  But  so  active  were  his  doubts 
and  fears,  as  altogether  to  derange  his  purposed  ceremo- 
nial for  the  reception  of  the  Marquis. 

These  feelings  of  apprehension  were  not  confined  to 
Sir  William  Ashton.  “ It  is  my  mother — it  is  my  moth- 


238 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


er— it  is  my  mother,”  said  Lucy,  turning  as  pale  as  ashes, 
and  clasping  her  hands  together  as  she  looked  at  Ravens- 
wood. 

“ And  if  it  be  Lady  Ashton,”  said  her  lover  to  her  in  a 
low  tone,  “ what  can  be  the  occasion  of  such  alarm  ? — 
Surely  the  return  of  a lady  to  the  family  from  which  she 
has  been  so  long  absent,  should  excite  other  sensations 
than  those  of  fear  and  dismay.” 

“ You  do  not  know  my  mother,”  said  Miss  Ashton,  in 
a tone  almost  breathless  with  terror ; “ what  will  she  say 
when  she  sees  you  in  this  place  !” 

“ My  stay  is  too  long,”  said  Ravenswood,  somewhat 
haughtily,  “ if  her  displeasure  at  my  presence  is  like  to 
be  so  formidable.  My  dear  Lucy,”  he  resumed,  in  a 
tone  of  soothing  encouragement,  you  are  too  childishly 
afraid  of  Lady  Ashton  ; she  is  a woman  of  family — a lady 
of  fashion — a person  who  must  know  the  world,  and  what 
is  due  to  her  husband  and  her  husband’s  guests.” 

Lucy  shook  her  head  ; and,  as  if  her  mother,  still  at 
the  distance  of  half  a mile,  could  have  seen  and  scruti- 
nized her  deportment,  she  withdrew  herself  from  beside 
Ravenswood,  and  taking  her  brother  Henry’s  arm,  led 
him  to  a different  part  of  the  terrace.  The  Keeper  also 
shuffled  down  towards  the  portal  of  the  great  gate,  with- 
out inviting  Ravenswood  to  accompany  him,  and  thus  he 
remained  standing  alone  on  the  terrace,  deserted  and 
shunned,  as  it  were,  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  mansion. 

This  suited  not  the  mood  of  one  who  was  proud  in  pro- 
portion to  his  poverty,  and  who  thought  that,  in  sacrificing 
his  deep-rooted  resentments  so  far  as  to  become  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton’s  guest,  he  conferred  a favour  and  received 
none.  “ I can  forgive  Lucy,”  he  said  to  himself ; “ she 
is  young,  timid,  and  conscious  of  an  important  engagement 
assumed  without  her  mother’s  sanction  ; yet  she  should 
remember  with  whom  it  has  been  assumed,  and  leave  me 
no  reason  to  suspect  that  she  is  ashamed  of  her  choice. 
For  the  Keeper,  sense,  spirit,  and  expression  seem  to  have 
left  his  face  and  manner  since  he  had  the  first  glimpse  of 
Lady  Ashton’s  carriage.  1 must  watch  how  this  is  to 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


239 


end ; and,  if  they  give  me  reason  to  think  myself  an  un- 
welcome guest,  my  visit  is  soon  abridged.” 

With  these  suspicions  floating  on  his  mind,  he  left  the 
terrace,  and,  walking  towards  the  stables  of  the  castle, 
gave  directions  that  his  horse  should  be  kept  in  readiness, 
in  case  that  he  should  have  occasion  to  ride  abroad. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  drivers  of  the  two  carriages,  the 
approach  of  which  had  occasioned  so  much  dismay  at 
the  castle,  had  become  aware  of  each  other’s  presence, 
as  they  approached  upon  different  lines  to  the  head  of 
the  avenue,  as  a common  centre.  Lady  Ashton’s  driver 
and  postillions  instantly  received  orders  to  get  foremost, 
if  possible,  her  ladyship  being  desirous  of  despatching  her 
first  interview  with  her  husband  before  the  arrival  of  these 
guests,  whoever  they  might  happen  to  be.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  coachman  of  the  Marquis,  conscious  of  his  own 
dignity  and  that  of  his  master,  and  observing  the  rival 
charioteer  was  mending  his  pace,  resolved,  like  a true 
brother  of  the  whip,  whether  ancient  or  modern,  to  vindi- 
cate his  right  of  precedence.  So  that,  to  increase  the 
confusion  of  the  Lord  Keeper’s  understanding,  he  saw 
the  short  time  which  remained  for  consideration  abridg- 
ed by  the  haste  of  the  contending  coachmen,  who,  fixing 
their  eyes  sternly  on  each  other,  and  applying  the  lash 
smartly  to  their  horses,  began  to  thunder  down  the  de- 
scent with  emulous  rapidity,  while  the  horsemen  who 
attended  them  were  forced  to  put  on  to  a hand-gallop. 

Sir  William’s  only  chance  now  remaining  was  the  pos- 
sibility of  an  overturn,  and  that  his  lady  or  visiter  might 
break  their  necks.  I am  not  aware  that  he  formed  any 
distinct  wish  on  the  subject,  but  I have  no  reason  to  think 
that  his  grief  in  either  case  would  have  been  altogether  in- 
consolable. This  chance,  however,  also  disappeared  ; for 
Lady  Ashton,  though  insensible  to  fear,  began  to  see  the 
ridicule  of  running  a race  with  a visiter  of  distinction,  the 
goal  being  the  portal  of  her  own  castle,  and  commanded 
her  coachman,  as  they  approached  the  avenue,  to  slacken 
his  pace  and  allow  precedence  to  the  stranger’s  equipage  ; 
a command  which  he  gladly  obeyed,  as  coming  in  lime 


240 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


to  save  his  honour,  the  horses  of  the  Marquis’s  carriage 
being  better,  or,  at  least,  fresher  than  his  own.  He  re- 
strained his  speed,  therefore,  and  suffered  the  green 
coach  to  enter  the  avenue,  with  all  its  retinue,  which  pass 
it  occupied  with  the  speed  of  a whirlwind.  The  Mar- 
quis’s laced  charioteer  no  sooner  found  the  pas  d’avance 
was  granted  to  him,  than  he  resumed  a more  deliberate 
pace,  at  which  he  advanced  under  the  embowering  shade 
of  the  lofty  elms,  surrounded  by  all  the  attendants ; while 
the  carriage  of  Lady  Ashton  followed  still  more  slowly 
at  some  distance. 

In  the  front  of  the  castle,  and  beneath  the  portal  which 
admitted  guests  into  the  inner  court,  stood  Sir  William 
Ashton,  much  perplexed  in  mind,  his  younger  son  and 
daughter  beside  him,  and  in  their  rear  a train  of  attendants 
of  various  ranks,  in  and  out  of  livery.  The  nobility  and 
gentry  of  Scotland,  at  this  period,  were  remarkable  even 
to  extravagance  for  the  number  of  their  servants,  whose 
services  were  easily  purchased  in  a country  where  men 
were  numerous  beyond  proportion  to  the  means  of  em- 
ploying them. 

The  manners  of  a man,  trained  like  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton, are  too  much  at  his  command  to  remain  long  dis- 
concerted with  the  most  adverse  concurrence  of  circum- 
stances. He  received  the  Marquis,  as  he  alighted  from 
his  equipage,  with  the  usual  compliments  of  welcome  ; 
and  as  he  ushered  him  into  the  great  hall,  expressed  his 
hope  that  his  journey  had  been  pleasant.  The  Marquis 
was  a tall,  well-made  man,  wTith  a thoughtful  and  intelli- 
gent countenance,  and  an  eye  in  which  the  fire  of  ambi- 
tion had  for  some  years  replaced  the  vivacity  of  youth  ; 
a bold,  proud  expression  of  countenance,  yet  chastened 
by  habitual  caution,  and  the  desire  which,  as  the  head  of 
a party,  he  necessarily  entertained  of  acquiring  popularity. 
He  answered  with  courtesy  the  courteous  inquiries  of  the 
Lord  Keeper,  and  was  formally  presented  to  Miss  Ash- 
ton, in  the  course  of  which  ceremony  the  Lord  Keeper 
gave  the  first  symptom  of  what  was  chiefly  occupying 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR.  241 

his  mind,  by  introducing  his  daughter  as  “ his  wife  Lady 
Ashton.” 

Lucy  blushed  ; the  Marquis  looked  surprised  at  the 
extremely  juvenile  appearance  of  his  hostess,  and  the 
Lord  Keeper  with  difficulty  rallied  himself  so  far  as  to 
explain.  “ I should  have  said  my  daughter,  my  lord  ; 
but  the  truth  is  that  I saw  Lady  Ashton’s  carriage  enter 
the  avenue  shortly  after  your  lordship’s,  and” 

“ Make  no  apology  my  lord,”  replied  his  noble  guest ; 
“ let  me  entreat  you  will  wait  on  your  lady,  and  leave 
me  to  cultivate  Miss  Ashton’s  acquaintance.  I am  shock- 
ed my  people  should  have  taken  precedence  of  our  host- 
ess at  her  own  gate  ; but  your  lordship  is  aware,  that  I 
supposed  Lady  Ashton  was  still  in  the  south.  Permit 
me  to  beseech  you  will  waive  ceremony,  and  hasten  to 
welcome  her.” 

This  teas  precisely  what  the  Lord  Keeper  longed  to 
do  ; and  he  instantly  profited  by  his  lordship’s  obliging 
permission.  To  see  Lady  Ashton,  and  encounter  the 
first  burst  of  her  displeasure  in  private,  might  prepare  her, 
in  some  degree,  to  receive  her  unwelcomed  guests  with 
due  decorum.  As  her  carriage,  therefore,  stopped",  the 
arm  of  the  attentive  husband  was  ready  to  assist  Lady 
Ashton  in  dismounting.  Looking  as  if  she  saw  him  not, 
she  put  his  arm  aside,  and  requested  that  of  Captain  Crai- 
gengelt,  who  stood  by  the  coach  with  his  laced  hat  under 
his  arm,  having  acted  as  a cavaliere  serviente , or  squire 
in  attendance,  during  the  journey.  Taking  hold  of  this 
respectable  person’s  arm  as  if  to  support  her,  Lady  Ash- 
ton traversed  the  court,  uttering  a word  or  two  by  way 
of  direction  to  the  servants,  but  not  one  to  Sir  William, 
who  in  vain  endeavoured  to  attract  her  attention,  as  he 
rather  followed  than  accompanied  her  into  the  hall,  in 
which  they  found  the  Marquis  in  close  conversation  with 
“the  Master  of  Ravenswood  ; Lucy  had  taken  the  first  op- 
portunity of  escaping.  There  was  embarrassment  on 

every  countenance  except  that  of  the  Marquis  of  A ; 

for  even  Craigengelt’s  impudence  was  hardly  able  to  veil 
21  VOL.  i. 


242 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


his  fear  of  Ravenswood,  and  the  rest  felt  the  awkwardness 
of  the  position  in  which  they  were  thus  unexpectedly 
placed. 

After  waiting  a moment  to  be  presented  by  Sir  William 
Ashton,  the  Marquis  resolved  to  introduce  himself,  “ The 
Lord  Keeper,”  he  said,  “ bowing  to  Lady  Ashton,  “ has 
just  introduced  to  me  his  daughter  as  his  wife — he  might 
very  easily  present  Lady  Ashton  as  his  daughter,  so  little 
does  she  differ  from  what  I remember  her  some  years 
since — Will  she  permit  an  old  acquaintance  the  privilege 
of  a guest  9” 

He  saluted  the  lady  with  too  good  a grace  to  appre- 
hend a repulse,  and  then  proceeded — “ This,  Lady  Ash- 
ton, is  a peace-making  visit,  and  therefore  I presume  to 
introduce  my  cousin,  the  young  Master  of  Ravenswood 
to  your  favourable  notice.” 

Lady  Ashton  could  not  choose  but  courtesy  ; but  there 
was  in  her  obeisance  an  air  of  haughtiness  approaching 
to  contemptuous  repulse.  Ravenswood  could  not  choose 
but  bow ; but  his  manner  returned  the  scorn  with  which 
he  had  been  greeted. 

“'Allow  me,”  she  said,  “ to  present  to  your  lordship 
my  friend.”  Craigengelt,  with  the  forward  impudence 
which  men  of  his  cast  mistake  for  ease,  made  a sliding 
bow  to  the  Marquis,  which  he  graced  by  a flourish  of  his 
gold-laced  hat.  The  lady  turned  to  her  husband — “ You 
and  I,  Sir  William,”  she  said,  and  these  were  the  first 
words  she  had  addressed  to  him,  “ have  acquired  new 
acquaintances  since  we  parted — let  me  introduce  the  ac- 
quisition I have  made  to  mine — Captain  Craigengelt.” 

Another  bow,  and  another  flourish  of  the  gold-laced 
hat,  which  was  returned  by  the  Lord  Keeper  without  in- 
timation of  former  recognition,  and  with  that  sort  of  anx- 
ious readiness,  which  intimated  his  wish,  that  peace  and 
amnesty  should  take  place  betwixt  the  contending  parties, 
including  the  auxiliaries  on  both  sides.  “ Let  me  intro- 
duce you  to  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,”  said  he  to  Cap- 
tain Craigengelt,  following  up  the  same  amicable  system. 
But  the  Master  drew  up  his  tall  form  to  the  full  extent 


THE  ERIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOH.  243 

of  his  height,  and  without  so  much  as  looking  towards  the 
person  thus  introduced  to  him,  he  said,  in  a marked  tone, 
“ Captain  Craigengelt  and  I are  already  perfectly  well 
acquainted  with  each  other.” 

“ Perfectly — perfectly,”  replied  the  Captain,  in  a mum- 
bling tone,  like  that  of  a double  echo,  and  with  a flourish 
of  his  hat,  the  circumference  of  which  was  greatly  abridg- 
ed, compared  with  those  which  had  so  cordially  graced 
his  introduction  to  the  Marquis  and  the  Lord  Keeper. 

Lockhard,  followed  by  three  menials,  now  entered 
with  wine  and  refreshments,  which  it  was  the  fashion  to 
offer  as  a whet  before  dinner  ; and  when  they  were  plac- 
ed before  the'  guests,  Lady  Ashton  made  an  apology  for 
withdrawing  her  husband  from  them  for  some  minutes 
upon  business  of  special  import.  The  Marquis  of  course, 
requested  her  ladyship  would  lay  herself  under  no  re- 
straint ; and  Craigengelt,  bolting  with  speed  a second 
glass  of  racy  canary,  hastened  to  leave  the  room,  feeling 
no  great  pleasure  in  the  prospect  of  being  left  alone  with 

the  Marquis  of  A and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood ; 

the  presence  of  the  former  holding  him  in  awe,  and  that 
of  the  latter  in  bodily  terror. 

Some  arrangements  about  his  horse  and  baggage  form- 
ed the  pretext  for  his  sudden  retreat,  in  which  he  perse- 
vered, although  Lady  Ashton  gave  Lockhard  orders  to  be 
careful  most  particularly  to  accommodate  Captain  Craig- 
engelt with  all  the  attendance  which  he  could  possibly 
require.  The  Marquis  and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
were  thus  left  to  communicate  to  each  other  their  remarks 
upon  the  reception  which  they  had  met  with,  while  Lady 
Ashton  led  the  way,  and  her  lord  followed  somewhat  like 
a condemned  criminal,  to  her  ladyship’s  dressing-room. 

So  soon  as  the  spouses  had  both  entered,  her  ladyship 
gave  way  to  that  fierce  audacity  of  temper,  which  she  had 
with  difficulty  suppressed,  out  of  respect  to  appearances. 
She  shut  the  door  behind  the  alarmed  Lord  Keeper,  took 
the  key  out  of  the  spring-lock,  and,  with  a countenance 
which  years  had  not  bereft  of  its  haughty  charms,  and 
eyes  which  spoke  at  once  resolution  and  resentment,  she 


244 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


addressed  her  astounded  husband  in  these  words  : — “ My 
lord,  I am  not  greatly  surprised  at  the  connexions  you 
have  been  pleased  to  form  during  my  absence — they  are 
entirely  in  conformity  with  your  birth  and  breeding  ; and 
if  I did  expect  anything  else,  I heartily  own  my  error,  and 
that  I merit,  by  having  done  so,  the  disappointment  you 
had  prepared  for  me.” 

“ My  dear  Lady  Ashton — my  dear  Eleanor, ’’  said  the 
Lord  Keeper,  “ listen  to  reason  for  a moment,  and  I will 
convince  you  I have  acted  with  all  the  regard  due  to  the 
dignity,  as  well  as  the  interest  of  my  family.” 

“ To  the  interest  of  your  family  I conceive  you  per- 
fectly capable  of  attending,”  returned  the  indignant  lady, 
“ and  even  to  the  dignity  of  your  family  also — But  as 
mine  happens  to  be  inextricably  involved  with  it,  you  will 
excuse  me  if  I choose  to  give  my  own  attention  so  far  as 
that  is  concerned.” 

“ What  would  you  have,  Lady  Ashton  9”  said  the  hus- 
band— “ What  is  it  that  displeases  you  9 Why  is  it,  that, 
on  your  return  after  so  long  an  absence,  1 am  arraigned 
in  this  manner  9” 

“ Ask  your  own  conscience,  Sir  William,  what  has 
prompted  you  to  become  a renegade  to  your  political  party 
and  opinions,  and  led  you,  for  what  I know,  to  be  on  the 
point  of  marrying  your  only  daughter  to  a beggarly  jaco- 
bite  bankrupt,  the  inveterate  enemy  of  your  family  to 
the  boot.” 

“ Why,  what,  in  the  name  of  common  sense  and  com- 
mon civility,  would  you  have  me  do,  madam  9”  answered 
her  husband — “ Is  it  possible  for  me,  with  ordinary  de- 
cency, to  turn  a young  gentleman  out  of  my  house,  who 
saved  my  daughter’s  life  and  my  own,  but  the  other  morn- 
ing as  it  were  9” 

“ Saved  your  life  ! I have  heard  of  that  story,”  said 
the  lady — “ the  Lord  Keeper  was  scared  by  a dun  cow, 
and  he  takes  the  young  fellow  who  killed  her  for  Guy  of 
Warwick — any  butcher  from  Haddington  may  soon  have 
an  equal  claim  on  your  hospitality.” 


^THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


245 


“ Lady  Ashton,”  stammered  the  Keeper,  “ this  is  in- 
tolerable— and  when  I am  desirous,  too,  to  make  you  easy 
by  any  sacrifice — if  you  would  but  tell  me  what  you 
would  be  at.” 

“ Go  down  to  your  guests,”  said  the  imperious  dame, 
“ and  make  your  apology  to  Ravenswood,  that  the  arrival 
of  Captain  Craigengelt  and  some  other  friends,  renders 
it  impossible  for  you  to  offer  him  lodgings  at  the  castle — 
I expect  young  Mr.  Hayston  of  Bucklaw.” 

“ Good  Heavens,  madam  !”  ejaculated  her  husband — 
“ Ravenswood  to  give  place  to  Craigengelt,  a common 
gambler  and  an  informer  ! — it  was  all  I could  do  to  forbear 
desiring  the  fellow  to  get  out  of  my  house,  and  I was  much 
surprised  to  see  him  in  your  ladyship’s  train.” 

“ Since  you  saw  him  there,  you  might  be  well  assur- 
ed,” answered  this  meek  helpmate,  “ that  he  was  proper 
society.  As  to  this  Ravenswood,  he  only  meets  with  the 
treatment  which,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  he  gave  to  a 
much  valued  friend  of  mine,  who  had  the  misfortune  to 
be  his  guest  some  time  since.  But  take  your  resolution  ; 
for,  if  Ravenswood  does  not  quit  the  house,  I will.” 

“ Sir  William  Ashton  paced  up  and  down  the  apart- 
ment in  the  most  distressing  agitation  ; fear,  and  shame, 
and  anger,  contending  against  the  habitual  deference  he 
was  in  the  use  of  rendering  to  his  lady.  At  length  it 
ended,  as  is  usual  with  timid  minds  placed  in  such  circum- 
stances, in  his  adopting  a mezzo  tervnine , a middle  measure. 

“ I tell  you  frankly,  madam,  I neither  can  nor  will  be 
guilty  of  the  incivility  you  propose  to  the  Master  of  Ra- 
venswood— he  has  not  deserved  it  at  my  hand.  If  you 
will  be  so  unreasonable  as  to  insult  a man  of  quality  under 
your  own  roof,  1 cannot  prevent  you  ; but  I will  not  at 
least  be  the  agent  in  such  a preposterous  proceeding.” 

“ You  will  not  9”  asked  the  lady. 

“ No,  by  Heavens,  madam,”  her  husband  replied  ; 
“ ask  me  anything  congruent  with  common  decency,  as 
to  drop  his  acquaintance  by  degrees,  or  the  like — but  to 
21*  VOL.  I. 


246 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


bid  him  leave  my  house,  is  what  I will  not,  and  cannot 
consent  to.” 

“ Then  the  task  of  supporting  the  honour  of  the  family 
will  fall  on  me,  as  it  has  often  done  before,”  said  the  lady. 

She  sat  down,  and  hastily  wrote  a few  lines.  The  Lord 
Keeper  made  another  effort  to  prevent  her  taking  a step 
so  decisive,  just  as  she  opened  the  door  to  call  her  female 
attendant  from  the  anti-room.  “ Think  what  you  are 
doing,  Lady  Ashton — you  are  making  a mortal  enemy 
of  a young  man,  who  is  like  to  have  the  means  of  harm- 
ing us” 

“ Did  you  ever  know  a Douglas  who  feared  an  enemy  ?” 
answered  the  lady  contemptuously. 

“ Ay,  but  he  is  as  proud  and  vindictive  as  an  hundred 
Douglasses,  and  an  hundred  devils  to  boot.  Think  of  it 
for  a night  only.” 

“ Not  for  another  moment,”  answered  the  dady  ; — 
“ here,  Mrs.  Patullo,  give  this  billet  to  young  Ravenswood.” 

“ To  the  Master,  madam  ?”  said  Mrs.  Patullo. 

“ Ay,  to  the  Master,  if  you  call  him  so.” 

“ I wash  my  hands  of  it  entirely,”  said  the  Keeper  ; 
iC  and  I shall  go  down  into  the  garden,  and  see  that  Jardine 
gathers  the  winter  fruit  for  the  dessert.” 

“ Do  so,”  said  the  lady,  looking  after  him  with  looks 
of  infinite  contempt  ; “ and  thank  God  that  you  leave 
one  behind  you  as  fit  to  protect  the  honour  of  the  family, 
as  you  are  to  look  after  pippins  and  pears.” 

The  Lord  Keeper  remained  long  enough  in  the  garden 
to  give  her  ladyship’s  mind  time  to  explode,  and  to  let,  as 
he  thought,  at  least  the  first  violence  of  Ravenswood’s 
displeasure  blow  over.  When  he  entered  the  hall,  he 

found  the  Marquis  of  A giving  orders  to  some  of  his 

attendants.  He  seemed  in  high  displeasure,  and  inter- 
rupted an  apology  which  Sir  William  had  commenced, 
for  having  left  his  lordship  alone. 

“ I presume,  Sir  William,  you  are  no  stranger  to  this 
singular  billet  with  wdiich  my  kinsman  of  Ravenswood  (an 
emphasis  on  the  word  my)  has  been  favoured  by  your  lady 
— and,  of  course,  that  you  are  prepared  to  receive  my 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


247 


adieus — My  kinsman  is  already  gone,  having  thought  it 
unnecessary  to  offer  any  on  his  part,  since  all  former  civil- 
ities have  been  cancelled  by  this  singular  insult.” 

“ I protest,  my  lord,”  said  Sir  William,  holding  the  bil- 
let in  his  hand,  “ I am  not  privy  to  the  contents  of  this 
letter.  I know  Lady  Ashton  is  a warm-tempered  and 
prejudiced  woman,  and  I am  sincerely  sorry  for  any  of- 
fence that  has  been  given  or  taken  ; but  I hope  your  lord- 

ship  will  consider  that  a lady” 

“ Should  bear  herself  towards  persons  of  a certain  rank 
with  the  breeding  of  one,”  said  the  Marquis,  completing 
the  half-uttered  sentence. 

“ True,  my  lord,”  said  the  unfortunate  Keeper ; “ but 

Lady  Ashton  is  still  a woman” 

“ And  as  such,  methinks,”  said  the  Marquis,  again  in- 
terrupting him,  “ should  be  taught  the  duties  which  corres- 
pond to  her  station.  But  here  she  comes,  and  I will  learn 
from  her  own  mouth  the  reason  of  this  extraordinary  and 
unexpected  affront  offered  to  my  near  relation,  while  both 
he  and  I were  her  ladyship’s  guests.” 

Lady  Ashton  accordingly  entered  the  apartment  at  this 
moment.  Her  dispute  with  Sir  William,  and  a subsequent 
interview  with  her  daughter,  had  not  prevented  her  from 
attending  to  the  duties  of  her  toilette.  She  appeared  in 
full  dress  ; and,  from  the  character  of  her  countenance 
and  manner,  well  became  the  splendour  with  which  ladies 
of  quality  then  appeared  on  such  occasions. 

The  Marquis  of  A bowed  haughtily,  and  she  re- 

turned the  salute  with  equal  pride  and  distance  of  demean- 
our. He  then  took  from  the  passive  hand  of  Sir  William 
Ashton  the  billet  he  had  given  him  the  moment  before  he 
approached  the  lady,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  she 
interrupted  him.  “ I perceive,  my  lord,  you  are  about 
to  enter  upon  an  unpleasant  subject.  I am  sorry  any  such 
should  have  occurred  at  this  time,  to  interrupt,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  the  respectful  reception  due  to  your  lord- 
ship— but  so  it  is. — Mr.  Edgar  Ravenswood,  for  whom  I 
have  addressed  the  billet  in  your  lordship’s  hand,  has 
abused  the  hospitality  of  this  family,  and  Sir  William  Ash- 


248 


TALES  0 E MY  LANDLORD. 


ton’s  softness  of  temper,  in  order  to  seduce  a young  per- 
son into  engagements  without  her  parents’  consent,  and  of 
which  they  never  can  approve.” 

Both  gentlemen  answered  at  once, — “ My  kinsman  is 

incapable,” said  the  Lord  Marquis. 

“ I am  confident  that  my  daughter  Lucy  is  still  more 

incapable” said  the  Lord  Keeper. 

Lady  Ashton  at  once  interrupted,  and  replied  to  them 
both,— “ My  Lord  Marquis,  your  kinsman,  if  Mr.  Ravens- 
wood  has  the  honour  to  be  so,  has  made  this  attempt  pri- 
vately to  secure  the  affections  of  this  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced girl. — Sir  William  Ashton,  your  daughter  has  been 
simple  enough  to  give  more  encouragement  than  she  ought 
to  have  done  to  so  very  improper  a suitor.” 

“ And  I think,  madam,”  said  the  Lord  Keeper,  losing 
his  accustomed  temper  and  patience,  “ that  if  you  had 
nothing  better  to  tell  us,  you  had  better  have  kept  this 
family  secret  to  yourself  also.” 

“ You  will  pardon  me,  Sir  William,”  said  the  lady 
calmly  ; “ the  noble  Marquis  has  a right  to  know  the  cause 
of  the  treatment  I have  found  it  necessary  to  use  to  a gen- 
tleman whom  he  calls  his  blood-relation.” 

“ It  is  a cause,”  muttered  the  Lord  Keeper,  “ which 
has  emerged  since  the  effect  has  taken  place  ; for,  if  it 
exists  at  all,  I am  sure  she  knew  nothing  of  it  when  her 
letter  to  Ravenswood  was  written.” 

“ It  is  the  first  time  that  I have  heard  of  this,”  said  the 
Marquis  ; “ but  since  your  ladyship  has  tabled  a subject 
so  delicate,  permit  me  to  say,  that  my  kinsman’s  birth  and 
connexions  entitled  him  to  a patient  hearing,  and  at  least 
a civil  refusal,  even  in  case  of  his  being  so  ambitious  as 
to  raise  his  eyes  to  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Ashton.” 
“ You  will  recollect,  my  lord,  of  what  blood  Miss  Lucy 
Ashton  is  come  by  the  mother’s  side,”  said  the  lady. 

“ I do  remember  your  descent — from  a younger  branch 
of  the  house  of  Angus,”  said  the  Marquis — “ and  your 
ladyship — forgive  me,  lady — ought  not  to  forget  that  the 
Ravenswoods  have  thrice  intermarried  with  the  main- 
branch.  Come,  madam — I know  how  matters  stand — 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


249 


old  and  long  fostered  prejudices  are  difficult  to  get  over 
— I make  every  allowance  for  them — 1 ought  not,  and  1 
would  not  have  suffered  my  kinsman  to  depart  alone,  ex- 
pelled, in  a manner,  from  this  house — but  l had  hopes  of 
being  a mediator.  I am  still  unwilling  to  leave  you  in 
anger — and  shall  not  set  forward  till  afternoon,  as  I rejoin 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood  upon  the  road  a few  miles 
from  hence.  Let  us  talk  over  this  matter  more  coolly.” 
“ It  is  what  I anxiously  desire,  my  lord,”  said  Sir  Wil- 
liam Ashton,  eagerly.  “ Lady  Ashton,  we  will  not  per- 
mit my  Lord  of  A to  leave  us  in  displeasure.  We 

must  compel  him  to  tarry  dinner  at  the  castle.” 

“ The  castle,”  said  the  lady,  “ and  all  that  it  contains, 
are  at  the  command  of  the  Marquis,  so  long  as  he  chooses 
to  honour  it  with  his  residence — but  touching  the  farther 
discussion  of  this  disagreeable  topic” — — 

“ Pardon  me,  good  madam,”  said  the  Marquis ; “ but 
I cannot  allow  you  to  express  any  hasty  resolution  on  a 
subject  so  important.  1 see  that  more  company  is  arriv- 
ing \ and  since  I have  the  good  fortune  to  renew  my  for- 
mer acquaintance  with  Lady  Ashton,  1 hope  she  will  give 
me  leave  to  avoid  perilling  what  I prize  so  highly  upon 
any  disagreeable  subject  of  discussion — at  least,  till  we 
have  talked  over  more  agreeable  topics.” 

The  lady  smiled,  courtsied,  and  gave  her  band  to  the 
Marquis,  by  whom,  with  all  the  formal  gallantry  of  the 
time,  which  did  not  permit  the  guest  to  tuck  the  lady  of 
the  house  under  the  arm,  as  a rustic  does  his  sweetheart 
at  a wake,  she  was  ushered  to  the  eating-room. 

Here  they  were  joined  by  Bucklaw,  Craigengelt,  and 
other  neighbours,  whom  the  Lord  Keeper  had  previously 

invited  to  meet  the  Marquis  of*  A . An  apology, 

founded  upon  a slight  indisposition,  was  alleged  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  absence  of  Miss  Ashton,  whose  seat  appeared 
unoccupied.  The  entertainment  was  splendid  to  profu- 
sion, and  was  protracted  till  a late  hour. 


250 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Such  was  our  fallen  father’s  fate, 

Vet  better  than  mine  own  ; 

He  shared  his  exile  with  his  mate, 

I’m  banish’d  forth  alone. 

Waller. 

I will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  mixture  of  indigna- 
tion and  regret  with  which  Ravenswood  left  the  seat  which 
had  belonged  to  his  ancestors.  The  terms  in  which  Lady 
Ashton’s  billet  was  couched,  rendered  it  impossible  for 
him,  without  being  deficient  in  that  spirit  of  which  he  per- 
haps had  too  much,  to  remain  an  instant  longer  within  its 
walls.  The  Marquis,  who  had  his,  share  in  the  affront, 
was,  nevertheless,  still  willing  to  make  some  efforts  at  con- 
ciliation. He  therefore  suffered  his  kinsman  to  depart 
alone,  making  him  promise,  however,  that  he  would  wait 
for  him  at  the  small  inn  called  the  Tod’s-Hole,  situated, 
as  our  readers  may.  be  pleased  to  recollect,  half  way  be- 
twixt Ravenswood  Castle  and  Wolfs  Crag,  and  about  five 
Scottish  miles  distant  from  each.  Here  the  Marquis  pro- 
posed to  join  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  either  that  night 
or  the  next  morning.  His  own  feelings  would  have  in- 
duced him  to  have  left  the  castle  directly,  but  he  was  loth 
to  forfeit,  without  at  least  one  effort,  the  advantages  which 
he  had  proposed  from  his  visit  to  the  Lord  Keeper;  and 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood  was,  even  in  the  very  heat  of 
his  resentment,  unwilling  to  foreclose  any  chance  of  re- 
conciliation which  might  arise  out  of  the  partiality  which 
Sir  William  Ashton  had  shown  towards  him,  as  well  as  the 
intercessory  arguments  of  his  noble  kinsman.  He  himself 
departed  without  a moment’s  delay,  farther  than  was  ne- 
cessary to  make  this  arrangement. 

At  first  he  spurred  his  horse  at  a quick  pace  through  an 
avenue  of  the  park,  as  if,  by  rapidity  of  motion,  he  could 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


251 


stupify  the  confusion  of  feelings  with  which  he  wras  assail- 
ed. But  as  the  road  grew  wilder  and  more  sequestered, 
and  when  the  trees  had  hidden  the  turrets  of  the  castle, 
he  gradually  slackened  his  pace,  as  if  to  indulge  the  pain- 
ful reflections  which  he  had  in  vain  endeavoured  to  re- 
press. The  path  in  which  lie  found  himself  led  him  to 
the  Mermaiden’s  Fountain,  and  to  the  cottage  of  Alice  ; 
and  the  fatal  influence  which  superstitious  belief  attached 
to  the  former  spot,  as  well  as  the  admonitions  which  had 
been  in  vain  offered  to  him  by  the  inhabitant  of  the  latter, 
forced  themselves  upon  his  memory.  “ Old  saws  speak 
truth,”  he  said  to  himself  ; “ and  the  Mermaiden’s  Well 
has  indeed  witnessed  the  last  act  of  rashness  of  the  heir 
of  Ravenswood. — Alice  spoke  well,”  he  continued,  “ and 
I am  in  the  situation  which  she  foretold — or  rather  I am 
more  deeply  dishonoured — not  the  dependant  and  ally  of 
the  destroyer  of  my  father’s  house,  as  the  old  sibyl  pre- 
saged, but  the  degraded  wretch,  who  has  aspired  to  hold 
that  subordinate  character,  and  has  been  rejected  with 
disdain.” 

We  are  bound  to  tell  the  tale  as  we  have  received  it  ; 
and,  considering  the  distance  of  the  time,  and  propensity 
of  those  through  whose  mouths  it  has  passed  to  the  mar- 
vellous, this  could  not  be  called  a Scottish  story,  unless  it 
manifested  a tinge  of  Scottish  superstition.  As  Ravens- 
wood approached  the  solitary  fountain,  he  is  said  to  have 
met  with  the  following  singular  adventure  : — His  horse, 
which  was  moving  slowly  forward,  suddenly  interrupted 
its  steady  and  composed  pace,  snorted,  reared,  and,  though 
urged  by  the  spur,  refused  to  proceed,  as  if  some  object 
of  terror  had  suddenly  presented  itself.  On  looking  to 
the  fountain,  Ravenswood  discerned  a female  figure,  dress- 
ed in  a white,  or  rather  greyish  mantle,  placed  on  the  very 
spot  on  which  Lucy  Ashton  had  reclined  while  listening 
to  the  fatal  tale  of  love.  His  immediate  impression  was, 
that  she  had  conjectured  by  which  path  he  would  traverse 
the  park  on  his  departure,  and  placed  herself  at  this  well- 
known  and  sequestered  place  of  rendezvous,  to  indulge 
her  own  sorrow  and  his  in  a parting  interview.  In  this 


. 252 


TAI.ES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


belief  he  jumped  from  his  horse,  and,  making  its  bridle 
fast  to  a tree,  walked  hastily  towards  the  fountain,  pro- 
nouncing eagerly,  yet  under  his  breath,  the  words,  “ Miss 
Ashton  ! — Lucy  !” 

The  figure  turned  as  he  addressed  it,  and  displayed  to 
his  wondering  eyes,  the  features,  not  of  Lucy  Ashton,  but 
of  old  blind  Alice.  The  singularity  of  her  dress,  which 
rather  resembled  a shroud  than  the  garment  of  a living 
woman — the  appearance  of  her  person,  larger,  as  it  struck 
him,  than  it  usually  seemed  to  be — above  all,  the  strange 
circumstance  of  a blind,  infirm,  and  decrepit  person  being 
found  at  a distance  from  her  habitation,  (considerable  if 
her  infirmities  be  taken  into  account,)  combined  to  impress 
him  with  a feeling  of  wonder  approaching  to  fear.  As  he 
approached,  she  arose  from  her  seat,  held  her  shrivelled 
hand  up  as  if  to  prevent  his  coming  more  near,  and  her 
withered  lips  moved  fast,  although  no  sound  issued  from 
them,  Ravenswood  stopped  ; and  as,  after  a moment’s 
pause,  he  again  advanced  towards  her,  Alice,  or  her  ap- 
parition, moved  or  glided  backwards  towards  the  thicket, 
still  keeping  her  face  turned  towards  him.  The  trees 
soon  hid  the  form  from  his  sight  ; and,  yielding  to  the 
strong  and  terrific  impression,  that  the  being  which  he  had 
seen  was  not  of  this  world,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood 
remained  rooted  to  the  ground  whereon  he  had  stood 
when  he  caught  his  last  view  of  her.  At  length,  summon- 
ing up  his  courage,  he  advanced  to  the  spot  on  which  the 
figure  had  seemed  to  be  seated  ; but  neither  was  there 
pressure  of  the  grass,  nor  any  other  circumstance,  to  in- 
duce him  to  believe  that  what  he  had  seen  was  real  and 
substantial. 

Full  of  those  strange  thoughts  and  confused  apprehen- 
sions which  awake  in  the  bosom  of  one  who  conceives  he 
has  witnessed  some  preternatural  appearance,  the  Master 
of  Ravenswood  walked  back  towards  his  horse,  frequent- 
ly, however,  looking  behind  him,  not  without  apprehen- 
sion, as  if  expecting  that  the  vision  would  re-appear.  But 
the  apparition,  whether  it  was  real,  or  whether  it  w:-s  the 
creation  of  a heated  and  agitated  imagination,  returned 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


253 


snot  again  ; and  he  found  his  horse  sweating  and  ter- 
rified, as  if  experiencing  that  agony  of  fear  with  which 
the  presence  of  a supernatural  being  is  supposed  to  agi- 
tate the  brute  creation.  The  Master  mounted,  and  rode 
slowly  forward,  soothing  his  horse  from  time  to  time, 
while  the  animal  seemed  internally  to  shrink  and  shud- 
der, as  if  expecting  some  new  object  of  fear  at  the  open- 
ing of  every  glade.  The  rider,  after  a moment’s  con- 
sideration, resolved  to  investigate  the  matter  further. 
“ Can  my  eyes  have  deceived  me,”  he  said,  u and  deceiv- 
ed me  for  such  a space  of  time  — Or  are  this  woman’s 
infirmities  but  feigned,  in  order  to  excite  compassion  — 
And  even  then,  her  motion  resembled  not  that  of  a living 
and  existing  person.  Must  I adopt  the  popular  creed,  and 
think  that  the  unhappy  being  has  formed  a league  with  the 
powers  of  darkness  c? — 1 am  determined  to  be  resolved — 
I will  not  brook  imposition  even  from  my  own  eyes.” 

In  this  uncertainty  he  rode  up  to  the  little  wicket  of 
Alice’s  garden.  Her  seat  beneath  the  birch-tree  was  va- 
cant, though  the  day  was  pleasant,  and  the  sun  was  high. 
He  approached  the  hut,  and  heard  from  within  the  sobs 
and  wailing  of  a female.  No  answer  was  returned  when 
he  knocked,  so  that,  after  a moment’s  pause,  he  lifted  the 
latch  and  entered.  It  was  indeed  a house  of  solitude  and 
sorrow.  Stretched  upon  her  miserable  pallet  lay  the 
corpse  of  the  last  retainer  of  the  house  of  Ravenswood 
who  still  abode  on  their  paternal  domains.  Life  had  but 
shortly  departed  ; and  the  little  girl,  by  whom  she  had 
been  attended  in  her  last  moments,  was  wringing  her  hands 
and  sobbing,  betwixt  childish  fear  and  sorrow,  over  the 
body  of  her  mistress. 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  had  some  difficulty  to  com- 
pose the  terrors  of  the  poor  child,  whom  his  unexpected 
appearance  had  at  first  rather  appalled  than  comforted  ; 
and  when  he  succeeded,  the  first  expression  which  the 
girl  used  intimated  that  “ he  had  come  too  late.”  Upon 
inquiring  the  meaning  of  this  expression,  he  learned  that 
the  deceased,  upon  the  first  attack  of  the  mortal  agony, 
22  von.  i. 


254 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


had  sent  a peasant  to  the  castle,  to  beseech  an  interview 
of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and  had  expressed  the  ut- 
most impatience  for  his  return.  But  the  messengers  of 
the  poor  are  tardy  and  negligent — the  fellow  had  not  reach- 
ed the  castle,  as  was  afterwards  learned,  until  Ravens- 
wood had  left  it,  and  had  then  found  too  much  amusement 
among  the  retinue  of  the  strangers  to  return  in  any  haste 
to  the  cottage  of  Alice.  Meantime,  her  anxiety  of  mind 
seemed  to  increase  with  the  agony  of  her  body  ; and,  to 
use  the  phrase  of  Babie,  her  only  attendant,  “ she  pray- 
ed powerfully  that  she  might  see  her  master’s  son  once 
more,  and  renew  her  warning.”  She  died  just  as  the 
clock  in  the  distant  village  tolled  one  ; and  Ravenswood 
remembered,  with  internal  shuddering,  that  he  had  heard 
the  chime  sound  through  the  wood  just  before  he  had  seen 
what  he  was  now  much  disposed  to  consider  as  the  spectre 
of  the  deceased. 

It  was  necessary,  as  well  from  his  respect  to  the  depart- 
ed as  in  common  humanity  to  her  terrified  attendant,  that 
he  should  take  some  measures  to  relieve  the  girl  from  her 
distressing  situation.  The  deceased,  he  understood,  had 
expressed  a desire  to  be  buried  in  a solitary  church-yard, 
near  the  little  inn  of  the  Tod’s-hole,  called  the  Hermit- 
age, or  more  commonly  Armitage,  in  which  lay  interred 
some  of  the  Ravenswood  family,  and  many  of  their  fol- 
lowers. Ravensw*ood  conceived  it  his  duty  to  gratify  this 
predilection,  so  commonly  found  to  exist  among  the  Scot- 
tish peasantry,  and  despatched  Babie  to  the  neighbouring 
village,  to  procure  the  assistance^  of  some  females,  assur- 
ing her  that,  in  the  meanwhile,  he  would  himself  remain 
with  the  dead  body,  which,  as  in  Thessaly  of  old,  it  is 
accounted  highly  unfit  to  leave  without  a watch. 

Thus,  in  the  course  of  a quarter  of  an  hour,  or  little 
more,  he  found  himself  sitting  a solitary  guard  over  the 
inanimate  corpse  of  her,  whose  dismissed  spirit,  unless  his 
eyes  had  strangely  deceived  him,  had  so  shortly  before 
manifested  itself  before  him.  Notwithstanding  his  natu- 
ral courage,  the  Master  was  considerably  affected  by  a 
concurrence  of  circumstances  so  extraordinary.  “ She 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


255 


died  expressing  her  eager  desire  to  see  me.  Can  it  be, 
then,” — was  his  natural  course  of  reflection — “ can  strong 
and  earnest  wishes,  formed  during  the  last  agony#of  nature, 
survive  its  catastrophe,  surmount  the  awful  bounds  of  the 
spiritual  world,  and  place  before  us  its  inhabitants  in  the 
hues  and  colouring  of  life  — And  why  was  that  manifest- 
ed to  the  eye  which  could  not  unfold  its  tale  to  the  ear  % 
— and  wherefore  should  a breach  be  made  in  the  laws  of 
nature,  yet  its  purpose  remain  unknown  — Vain  ques- 
tions, which  only  death,  when  it  shall  make  me  like  the 
pale  and  withered  form  before  me,  can  ever  resolve.” 

He  laid  a cloth,  as  he  spoke,  over  the  lifeless  face,  up- 
on whose  features  he  felt  unwilling  any  longer  to  dwell. 
He  then  took  his  place  in  an  old  carved  oaken  chair,  or- 
namented with  his  own  armorial  bearings,  which  Alice 
had  contrived  to  appropriate  to  her  own  use  in  the  pillage 
which  took  place  among  creditors,  officers,  domestics,  and 
messengers  of  the  law,  when  his  father  left  Ravenswood 
Castle  for  the  last  time.  Thus  seated,  he  banished,  as 
much  as  he  could,  the  superstitious  feelings  which  the  late 
incident  naturally  inspired.  His  own  were  sad  enough, 
without  the  exaggerations  of  supernatural  terror,  since  he 
found  himself  transferred  from  the  situation  of  a success- 
ful lover  of  Lucy  Ashton,  and  an  honoured  and  respect- 
ed friend  of  her  father,  into  the  melancholy  and  sol- 
itary guardian  of  the  abandoned  and  forsaken  corpse  of 
a common  pauper. 

He  was  relieved,  however,  from  his  sad  office,  sooner 
than  he  could  reasonably  have  expected,  from  the  distance 
betwixt  the  hut  of  the  deceased  and  the  village,  and  the 
age  and  infirmities  of  three  old  women,  who  came  from 
thence,  in  military  phrase,  to  relieve  guard  upon  the  body 
of  the  defunct.  On  any  other  occasion  the  speed  of  these 
reverend  sibyls  would  have  been  much  more  moderate, 
for  the  first  was  eighty  years  of  age  and  upwards,  the 
second  was  paralytic,  and  the  third  lame  of  a leg  from 
some  accident.  But  the  burial  duties  rendered  to  the 
deceased,  are,  to  the  Scottish  peasant  of  either  sex,  a la- 
bour of  love.  I know  not  whether  it  is  from  the  temper 


256 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


of  the  people,  grave  and  enthusiastic  as  it  certainly  is,  or 
from  the  recollection  of  the  ancient  catholic  opinions, 
when  the  funeral  rites  were  always  considered  as  a period 
of  festival  to  the  living  ; but  feasting,  good  cheer,  and 
even  inebriety,  were,  and  are,  the  frequent  accompani- 
ments of  a Scottish  old  fashioned  burial.  What  the  fu- 
neral feast,  or  dregy , as  it  is  called,  was  to  the  men,  the 
gloomy  preparations  of  the  dead  body  for  the  coffin  were 
to  the  women.  To  straight  the  contorted  limbs  upon  a 
board  used  for  that  melancholy  purpose,  to  array  the 
corpse  in  clean  linen,  and  over  that  in  its  woollen  shroud, 
were  operations  committed  always  to  the  old  matrons  of 
the  village,  and  in  which  they  found  a singular  and  gloomy 
delight. 

The  old  women  paid  the  Master  their  salutations  with 
a ghastly  smile,  which  reminded  him  of  the  meeting  be- 
twixt Macbeth  and  the  witches  on  the  blasted  heath  of 
Forres.  He  gave  them  some  money,  and  recommended 
to  them  the  charge  of  the  dead  body  of  their  contempo- 
rary, an  office  which  they  willingly  undertook  ; intimating 
to  him  at  the  same  time,  that  he  must  leave  the  hut,  in 
order  that  they  might  begin  their  mournful  duties.  Ra- 
venswood  readily  agreed  to  depart,  only  tarrying  to  re- 
commend to  them  due  attention  to  the  body,  and  to 
receive  information  where  he  was  to  find  the  sexton,  or 
beadle,  who  had  in  charge  the  deserted  church-yard  of 
the  Armitage,  in  order  to  prepare  matters  for  the  recep- 
tion of  old  Alice  in  the  place  of  repose  which  she  had 
selected  for  herself. 

“ Ye’ll  no  be  pinched  to*find  out  Johnie  Mortsheugh,” 
said  the  elder  sibyl,  and  still  her  withered  cheek  bore  a 
grisly  smile- — “ he  dwells  near  the  Tod’s-hole,  an  house 
of  entertainment  where  there  has  been  mony  a blithe 
birling — for  death  and  drink-draining  are  near  neighbours 
to  ane  anither.” 

“ Ay  ! and  that’s  e’en  true,  cummer,”  said  the  lame 
hag,  propping  herself  with  a crutch,  which  supported  the 
shortness  of  her  left  leg,  “ for  I mind  when  the  father  of 
this  Master  of  Ravenswood  that  is  now  standing  before 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


257 


us,  sticked  young  Blackhall  with  his  whinger,  for  a wrang 
word  said  ower  their  wine,  or  brandy,  or  what  not — he 
gaed  in  as  light  as  a lark,  and  he  came  out  with  his  feet 
foremost.  I was  atvthe  winding  of  the  corpse  ; and  when 
the  bluid  was  washed  oil*,  he  was  a bonnie  bouk  of  man’s 
body.” 

It  may  be  easily  conceived  that  this  ill-timed  anecdote 
hastened  the  Master’s  purpose  of  quitting  a company  so 
evil-omened  and  so  odious.  Yet,  while  walking  to  the 
tree  to  which  his  horse  was  tied,  and  busying  himself  with 
adjusting  the  girths  of  the  saddle,  he  could  not  avoid 
hearing,  through  the  hedge  of  the  little  garden,  a con- 
versation respecting  himself,  betwixt  the  lame  woman  and 
the  octogenarian  sibyl.  The  pair  had  hobbled  into  the 
garden  to  gather  rosemary,  southern-wood,  rue,  and  other 
plants  proper  to  be  strewed  upon  the  body,  and  burned 
by  way  of  fumigation  in  the  chimney  of  the  cottage. 
The  paralytic  wretch,  almost  exhausted  by  the  journey, 
was  left  guard  upon  the  corpse,  lest  witches  or  fiends 
might  play  their  sport  with  it. 

The  following  low  croaking  dialogue  was  necessarily 
overheard  by  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  : — 

“ That’s  a fresh  and  full-grown  hemlock,  Annie  Win- 
nie— mony  a cummer  lang  syne  wad  hae  sought  nae  bet- 
ter horse  to  flee  over  hill  and  how,  through  mist  and 
moonlight,  and  light  down  in  the  King  of  France’s  cellar.” 
“ Ay,  cummer  ! but  the  very  de’il  has  turned  as  hard- 
hearted now  as  the  Lord  Keeper,  and  the  grit  folk  that 
hae  breasts  like  whin-stane.  They  prick  us  and  they 
pine  us,  and  they  pit  us  on  the  pinny-winkles  for  witches  ; 
and,  if  I say  my  prayers  backwards  ten  times  ower,  Satan 
will  never  gi’e  me  amends  o’  them.” 

“ Did  ye  ever  see  the  foul  thief  (?”  asked  her  neigh- 
bour. 

“ Na  1”  replied  the  other  spokeswoman  ; “ but  I trow 
I hae  dreamed  of  him  mony  a time,  and  I think  the  day 
will  come  they  will  burn  me  for’t.  But  ne’er  mind, 
cummer  ! we  hae  this  dollar  of  the  Master’s,  and  we’l! 

22*  vol.  i. 


268 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


send  doun  for  bread  and  for  yill,  and  tobacco,  and  a drap 
brandy  to  burn,  and  a wee  pickle  saft  sugar — and  be 
there  de’il,  or  na  de’il,  lass,  we’ll  hae  a merry  night  o’t.” 
Here  her  leathern  chops  uttered  a sort  of  cackling 
ghastly  laugh,  resembling,  to  a certain  degree,  the  cry  of 
the  screech-owl. 

“ He’s  a frank  man,  and  a free-handed  man,  the 
Master,”  said  Annie  Winnie,  “ and  a comely  personage 
— broad  in  the  shouthers,  and  narrow  around  the  lungies 
- — he  wad  mak  a bonnie  corpse — 1 wad  like  to  hae  the 
streaking  and  winding  o’  him.” 

“ It  is  written  on  his  brow,  Annie  Winnie,”  returned 
the  octogenarian,  her  companion,  “ that  hand  of  woman, 
or  of  man  either,  will  never  straught  him — dead-deal  will 
never  be  laid  on  his  back — make  you  your  market  of 
that,  for  I hae  it  frae  a sure  hand.” 

“ Will  it  be  his  lot  to  die  on  the  battle-ground,  then, 
Ailsie  Gourlay  9 — Will  he  die  by  the  sword  or  the  ball, 
as  his  forbears  hae  dune  before  him  mony  ane  o’  them  9” 
“ Ask  nae  mair  questions  about  it — he’ll  no  be  graced 
sae  far,”  replied  the  sage. 

u I ken  ye  are  wiser  than  ither  folk,  Ailsie  Gourlay  ? 
—But  wha  tell’d  ye  this  V9 

“ Fashna  your  thumb  about  that,  Annie  Winnie,”  an- 
swered the  sibyl — “ I hae  it  frae  a hand  sure  aneugh.” 

“ But  ye  said  ye  never  saw  the  foul  thief,”  reiterated 
her  inquisitive  companion. 

“ I hae  it  frae  as  sure  a hand,”  said  Ailsie,  “ and  frae 
them  that  spaed  his  fortune  before  the  sark  gaed  ower 
his  head.” 

“ Hark  ! I hear  his  horse’s  feet  riding  off,”  said  the 
other  ; “ they  dinna  sound  as  if  good  luck  was  wi’  them.” 
“ Mak  haste,  sirs,”  cried  the  paralytic  hag  from  the 
cottage,  “ and  let  us  do  what  is  needfu’,  and  say  what  is 
fitting  ; for,  if  the  dead  corpse  binna  straughted,  it  will 
girn  and  thraw,  and  that  will  fear  the  best  o’  us.” 

Ravenswood  was  now  out  of  hearing.  He  despised 
most  of  the  ordinary  prejudices  about  witchcraft,  omens, 
and  vaticination,  to  which  his  age  and  country  still  gave 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


259 


such  implicit  credit,  that,  to  express  a doubt  of  them,  was 
accounted  a crime  equal  to  the  unbelief  of  Jews  or  Sar- 
acens ; he  knew  also,  that  the  prevailing  belief  concern- 
ing witches,  operating  upon  the  hypochondriac  habits  of 
those  whom  age,  infirmity,  and  poverty,  rendered  liable 
to  suspicion,  and  enforced  by  the  fear  of  death,  and  the 
pangs  of  the  most  cruel  tortures,  often  extorted  those 
confessions  which  encumber  and  disgrace  the  criminal 
records  of  Scotland  during  the  seventeenth  century.  But 
the  vision  of  that  morning,  whether  real  or  imaginary,  had 
impressed  his  mind  with  a superstitious  feeling,  which  he 
in  vain  endeavoured  to  shake  off.  The  nature  of  the 
business  which  awaited  him  at  the  little  inn,  called  Tod’s- 
hole,  where  he  soon  after  arrived,  was  not  of  a kind  to 
restore  his  spirits. 

It  was  necessary  he  should  see  Mortsheugh,  the  sexton 
of  the  old  burial-ground  at  Armitage,  to  arrange  matters 
for  the  funeral  of  Alice ; and  as  the  man  dwelt  near  the 
place  of  her  late  residence,  the  Master,  after  a slight  re- 
freshment, walked  towards  the  place  where  the  body  of 
Alice  was  to  be  deposited.  It  was  situated  in  the  nook 
formed  by  the  eddying  sweep  of  a stream,  which  issued 
from  the  adjoining  hills.  A rude  cavern  in  an  adjacent 
rock,  which,  in  the  interior,  was  cut  into  the  shape  of  a 
cross,  formed  the  hermitage,  where  some  Saxon  saint  had 
in  ancient  times  done  penance,  and  given  name  to  the 
place.  The  rich  Abbey  of  Coldinghame  had,  in  latter 
days,  established  a chapel  in  the  neighbourhood,  of  which 
no  vestige  was  now  visible,  though  the  church-yard  which 
surrounded  it  was  still,  as  upon  the  present  occasion,  used 
for  the  interment  of  particular  persons.  One  or  two  shat- 
tered yew-trees  still  grew  within  the  precincts  of  that 
which  had  once  been  holy  ground.  Warriors  and  barons 
had  been  buried  there  of  old,  but  their  names  were  for- 
gotten, and  their  monuments  demolished.  The  only 
sepulchral  memorials  which  remained,  were  the  upright 
head-stones  which  mark  the  grave  of  persons  of  an  infe- 
rior rank.  The  abode  of  the  sexton  was  a solitary  cot- 
tage adjacent  to  the  ruined  wall  of  the  cemetery,  but  so 


260 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


low,  that,  with  its  thatch,  which  nearly  reached  the  ground, 
covered  with  a thick  crop  of  grass,  fog,  and  house  leeks, 
it  resembled  an  overgrown  grave.  On  inquiry,  however, 
Ravenswood  found  that  the  man  of  the  last  mattock  was 
absent  at  a bridal,  being  fiddler  as  well  as  grave-digger 
to  the  vicinity.  He  therefore  retired  to  the  little  inn, 
leaving  a message  that  early  next  morning  he  would  again 
call  for  the  person,  whose  double  occupation  connected 
him  at  once  with  the  house  of  mourning  and  the  house 
of  feasting. 

An  outrider  of  the  Marquis  arrived  at  Tod’s-hole 
shortly  after,  with  a message  intimating  that  his  master 
would  join  Ravenswood  at  that  place  on  the  following 
morning  ; and  the  Master,  who  would  otherwise  have 
proceeded  to  his  old  retreat  at  Wolfs  Crag,  remained 
there  accordingly,  to  give  the  meeting  to  his  noble  kins- 
man. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Hamlet.  Has  this  fellow  no  feeling  of  his  business — he  sings  at  grave-making. 
Horatio.  Custom  hath  made  it  in  him  a property  of  easiness. 

Hamlet.  ?Tis  e'en  so  : the  hand  of  little  employment  hath  the  daintier  sense. 

Hamlet,  Act.  V.  Scene  I. 

The  sleep  of  Ravenswood  was  broken  by  ghastly  and 
agitating  visions,  and  his  waking  intervals  disturbed  by 
melancholy  reflections  on  the  past,  and  painful  anticipa- 
tions of  the  future.  He  was  perhaps  the  only  traveller 
who  ever  slept  in  that  miserable  kennel  without  complain- 
ing of  his  lodgings,  or  feeling  inconvenience  from  their 
deficiencies.  It  is  when  “ the  mind  is  free  the  body’s 
delicate.”  Morning,  however,  found  the  Master  an  early 
riser,  in  hopes  that  the  fresh  air  of  the  dawn  might  afford 
the  refreshment  which  night  had  refused  him.  He  took 
his  way  toward  the  solitary  burial-ground,  which  lay  about 
half-a-mile  from  the  inn. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  EAMMERMOOR. 


261 


The  thin  blue  smoke,  which  already  began  to  curl  up- 
ward, and  to  distinguish  the  cottage  of  the  living  from  the 
habitation  of  the  dead,  apprized  him  that  its  inmate  had 
returned  and  was  stirring.  Accordingly,  on  entering  the 
little  church-yard,  he  saw  the  old  man  labouring  in  a half- 
made  grave.  My  destiny,  thought  Ravenswood,  seems  to 
lead  me  to  scenes  of  fate  and  of  death  ; but  these  are 
childish  thoughts,  and  they  shall  not  master  me.  I will 
not  again  suffer  my  imagination  to  beguile  my  senses. — 
The  old  man  rested  on  his  spade  as  the  Master  approach- 
ed him,  as  if  to  receive  his  commands,  and,  as  he  did 
not  immediately  speak,  the  sexton  opened  the  discourse 
in  his  own  way. 

“ Ye  will  be  a wedding  customer,  sir,  1’se  warrant.” 

“ What  makes  you  think  so,  friend  9”  replied  the 
Master. 

“ I live  by  twa  trades,  sir,”  replied  the  blithe  old  man  ; 
“ fiddle,  sir,  and  spade  ; filling  the  world,  and  emptying 
of  it  ; and  I suld  ken  baith  cast  of  customers  by  head- 
mark  in  thirty  years  practice.” 

“ You  are  mistaken,  however,  this  morning,”  replied 
Ravenswood. 

“ Am  I 9”  said  the  old  man,  looking  keenly  at  him, 
“ troth  and  it  may  be  ; since,  for  as  brent  as  your  brow 
is,  there  is  something  sitting  upon  it  this  day,  that  is  as 
near  akin  to  death  as  to  wedlock.  Weel,  weel,  the  pick 
and  shovel  are  as  ready  to  your  order  as  bow  and  fiddle.” 
“ I wish  you,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ to  look  after  the 
decent  interment  of  an  old  woman,  Alice  Gray,  who 
lived  at  the  Craig-foot  in  Ravenswood  Park.” 

“ Alice  Gray  ! blind  Alice  !”  said  the  sexton  ; “ and 
is  she  gane  at  last  9 that’s  another  jow  of  the  bell  to  bid 
me  be  ready.  I mind  when  Habbie  Gray  brought  her 
down  to  this  land  ; a likely  lass  she  was  then,  and  looked 
ower  her  southland  nose  at  us  a’.  I trow  her  pride  got 
a downcome.— And  is  she  e’en  gane  9” 

“ She  died  yesterday,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ and  de- 
sired to  be  buried  here,  beside  her  husband  ; you  will 
know  where  he  lies,  no  doubt.” 


262 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Ken  where  he  lies  9”  answered  the  sexton,  with  na- 
tional indirection  of  response,  “ I ken  whar  a’  body  lies, 
that  lies  here.  But  ye  were  speaking  o’  her  grave  9 — 
Lord  help  us — it’s  no  an  ordinar  grave  that  will  haud  her 
in,  if  a’s  true  that  folks  said  of  Alice  in  her  auld  days  ; 
and  if  I gae  to  sax  feet  deep, — and  a warlock’s  grave 
shouldna  be  an  inch  mair  ebb,  or  her  ain  witch  cummers 
would  soon  whirl  her  out  of  her  shroud  for  a’  their  auld 
acquaintance — and  be’t  sax  feet,x  or  be’t  three,  wha’s  to 
pay  the  making  o’t,  I pray  ye  9” 

“ I will  pay  that,  my  friend,  and  all  other  reasonable 
charges.” 

“ Reasonable  charges  9”  said  the  sexton  ; “ ou,  there’s 
grund-mail — and  bell-siller — (though  the  bell’s  broken 
nae  doubt)  and  the  kist — and  my  day’s  wark — and  my 
bit  fee — and  some  brandy  and  yill  to  the  dregy — I am  no 
thinking  that  you  can  inter  her,  to  ca’  decently  r under 
saxteen  pund  Scots.” 

“ There  is  the  money,  my  friend,”  said  Ravenswood, 
“ and  something  over.  Be  sure  you  know  the  grave.” 

“ Ye’ll  be  ane  o’  her  English  relations,  I’se  warrant,” 
said  the  hoary  man  of  skulls  ; “ I hae  heard  she  mar- 
ried far  below  her  station  ; it  was  very  right  to  let  her 
bite  on  the  bridle  when  she  was  living,  and  it’s  very  right 
to  gie  her  a decent  burial  now  she’s  dead,  for  that’s  a 
matter  o’  credit  to  yoursell  rather  than  to  her.  Folk  may 
let  their  kindred  shift  for  themsells  when  they  are  alive, 
and  can  bear  the  burthen  of  their  ain  misdoings ; but  it’s 
an  unnatural  thing  to  let  them  be  buried  like  dogs,  when 
a’  the  discredit  gangs  to  the  kindred — what  kens  the 
dead  corse  about  it  9” 

“ Y'ou  would  not  have  people  neglect  their  relations  on 
a bridal  occasion  neither,”  said  Ravenswood,  who  was 
amused  with  the  professional  limitation  of  the  grave-dig- 
ger’s philanthropy. 

The  old  man  cast  up  his  sharp  grey  eyes  with  a shrewd 
smile,  as  if  he  understood  the  jest,  but  instantly  contin- 
ued with  his  former  gravity, — “ Bridals — wha  wad  neg- 
lect bridals,  that  had  ony  regard  for  plenishing  the  earth  9 


THE  BRIDE  OE  LAMMERMOOR. 


263 


To  be  sure,  they  suld  be  celebrated  with  all  manner  of 
good  cheer,  and  meeting  of  friends,  and  musical  instru- 
ments, harp,  sackbut,  and  psaltery  ; or  gude  fiddle  and 
pipes,  when  these  auld-warld  instruments  of  melody  are 
hard  to  be  compassed.” 

“ The  presence  of  the  fiddle,  I dare  say,”  replied 
Ravenswood,  “ would  atone  for  the  absence  of  all  the 
others.” 

The  sexton  again  looked  sharply  up  at  him,  as  he  an- 
swered, “ Nae  doubt — nae  doubt — if  it  were  weel  play- 
ed ; — but  yonder,”  he  said,  as  if  to  change  the  discourse, 
“ is  Halbert  Gray’s  lang  ha  me,  that  ye  were  speering 
after,  just  the  third  bourock  beyond  the  muckle  through- 
stane  that  stands  on  sax  legs  yonder,  abune  some  ane  of 
the  Ravenswood s ; for  there  is  rnony  of  their  kin  and  fol- 
lowers here,  de’il  lift  them  ! though  it  isna  just  their 
main  burial-place.” 

“ They  are  no  favourites,  then,  of  yours,  these  Ra- 
venswoods,”  said  the  Master,  not  much  pleased  with  the 
passing  benediction  which  was  thus  bestowed  on  his  fam- 
ily and  name. 

“ I kenna  wha  should  favour  them,”  said  the  grave- 
digger ; “ when  they  had  lands  and  power,  they  were  ill 
guides  of  them  baith,  and,  now  their  head’s  down,  there’s 
few  care  how  lang  they  may  be  of  lifting  it  again.” 

“ Indeed  !”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ I never  heard  that 
this  unhappy  family  deserved  ill-will  at  the  hands  of  their 
country.  I grant  their  poverty — if  that  renders  them 
contemptible.” 

“ II  will  gang  a far  way  till’t,”  said  the  sexton  of  Her- 
mitage, “ ye  may  tak  my  word  for  that — at  least,  I ken 
naething  else  that  suld  mak  myself  contemptible,  and  folk 
are  iV»i  free  respecting  me  as  they  wad  do,  if  I lived  in  a 
twa-lofted  sclated  house.  But  as  for  the  Ravenswoods, 
I hae  seen  three  generations  of  them,  and  de’il  ane  to 
mend  other.” 

“ I thought  they  had  enjoyed  a fair  character  in  the 
country,”  said  their  descendant. 


264 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Character  ! Ou  ye  see,  sir,”  said  the  sexton,  “ as 
for  the  auld  gude-sire  body  of  a lord,  I lived  on  his  land 
when  I was  a swanking  young  chield,  and  could  hae  blawn 
the  trumpet  wi’  ony  body,  for  1 had  wind  enough  then — 
and  touching  this  trumpeter  Marine  that  I have  heard 
play  afore  the  Lords  of  the  Circuit,  I wad  hae  made  nae 
mair  o’  him  than  of  a bairn  and  a bawbee  whistle — 1 defy 
him  to  hae  played  6 Boot  and  saddle,’  or  4 Horse  and 
away,’  or  4 Gallants,  come  trot,’  with  me — he  has  nae 
the  tones.” 

“ But  what  is  all  this  to  old  Lord  Ravenswood,  my 
friend  9”  said  the  Master,  who,  with  an  anxiety  not  un- 
natural in  his  circumstances,  was  desirous  of  prosecuting 
the  musician’s  first  topic — “ What  had  his  memory  to  do 
with  the  degeneracy  of  the  trumpet  music 

“ Just  this,  sir,”  answered  the  sexton,  “ that  I lost  my 
wind  in  his  service.  Ye  see  I was  trumpeter  at  the 
castle,  and  had  allowance  for  blawing  at  break  of  day, 
and  at  dinner-time,  and  other  whiles  when  there  was 
company  about,  and  it  pleased  my  lord  ; and,  when  he 
raised  his  militia  to  caper  awa’  to  Bothwell  Brigg  against 
the  wrang-headed  wastland  whigs,  I behoved,  reason  or 
nane,  to  munt  a horse  and  caper  awa  wi’  them.” 

“ And  very  reasonable,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ you 

were  his  servant  and  vassal.” 

“ Servitor,  say  ye  9”  replied  the  sexton,  “ and  so  I 
was — but  it  was  to  blaw  folk  to  their  warm  dinner,  or  at 
the  warst  to  a decent  kirk-yard,  and  no  to  skirl  them  awa’ 
to  a bluidy  brae-side,  where  there  was  de’il  a bedral  but 
the  hooded  craw.  But  bide  ye — ye  shall  hear  what  cam 
o’t,  and  how  far  I am  bund  to  be  bedesman  to  the  Rav- 
enswoods. — Till’t,  ye  see,  we  gae’d  on  a braw  simmer 
morning,  twenty-fourth  of  June,  saxteen  hundred  and 
se’enty-nine,  of  a’  the  days  of  the  month  and  year, — 
drums  beat— guns  rattled — horses  kicked  and  trampled. 
Hackstoun  of  Rathillet  keepit  the  brigg  wi’  musket  and 
carabine  and  pike,  sword  and  scythe  for  what  I ken,  and 
we  horsemen  were  ordered  down  to  cross  at  the  ford, — 
I hate  fords  at  a’  times,  let  abe  when  there’s  thousands  of 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


265 


armed  men  on  the  other  side.  There  was  auld  Ravens- 
wood  brandishing  his  Andrew  Ferrara  at  the  head,  and 
crying  to  us  to  come  and  buckle  to,  as  if  we  had  been 
gaun  to  a fair, — there  was  Caleb  Balderstone,  that  is  liv- 
ing yet,  flourishing  in  the  rear,  and  swearing  Gog  and 
Magog,  he  would  put  steel  through  the  guts  of  ony  man 
that  turned  bridle, — there  was  young  Allan  Ravenswood, 
that  was  then  Master,  wi’  a bended  pistol  in  his  hand, — 
it  was  a mercy  it  gaed  na  aff, — crying  to  me,  that  had 
scarce  as  much  wind  left  as  serve  the  necessary  pur- 
pose of  my  ain  lungs,  ‘ Sound,  you  poltroon  ! sound,  you 
damned  cowardly  villain,  or  I will  blow  your  brains  out  !’ 
and,  to  be  sure,  I blew  sic  points  of  war,  that  the  scraugh 
of  a clockin-hen  was  music  to  them.” 

“ Well,  sir,  cut  all  this  short,”  said  Ravenswood. 

“ Short  ! — I had  been  like  to  be  cut  short  mysell,  in 
the  flower  of  my  youth,  as  scripture  says  ; and  that’s  the 
very  thing  that  1 compleen  o’. — Weel  ! in  to  the  water 
we  behoved  a’  to  splash,  heels  ower  head,  sit  or  fa’ — ae 
horse  driving  on  anither,  as  is  the  way  of  brute  beasts, — 
and  riders  that  hae  as  little  sense, — the  very  bushes  on 
the  ither  side  were  ableeze,  wi’  the  flashes  of  the  whig 
guns  ; and  my  horse  had  just  ta’en  the  grund,  when  a 
blackavised  westland  carle — I wad  mind  the  face  o’  him 
a hundred  years  yet, — an  ee  like  a wild  falcon’s,  and  a 
beard  as  broad  as  my  shovel,  clapped  the  end  o’  his  lang 
black  gun  within  a quarter’s  length  of  my  lug  ! — by  the 
grace  of  Mercy,  the  horse  swarved  round,  and  I fell  aff  at 
the  tae  side  as  the  ball  whistled  by  at  the  tither,  and  the 
fell  auld  lord  took  the  whig  such  a swauk  wi’  his  broad- 
sword, that  he  made  twa  pieces  o’  his  head,  and  down 
fell  the  lurdane  wi’  a’  his  bowk  abune  me.” 

“ You  were  rather  obliged  to  the  old  lord,  I think,” 
said  Ravenswood. 

“ W 3s  19  my  sartie  ! first  for  bringing  md  into  jeop- 
ardy, would  I would  I — and  then  for  whomling  a chield 
on  the  tap  of  me,  that  dang  the  very  wind  out  of  my 
23  vol.  i. 


26  6 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


body — I hae  been  short-breathed  ever  since,  and  canna 
gang  twenty  yards  without  peghing  like  a miller’s  aiver.” 
“ You  lost  then  your  place  as  trumpeter  V9  said  Ra- 
venswood. 

u Lost  it — to  be  sure  I lost  it,”  replied  the  sexton, 
“ for  I couldna  have  played  pew  upon  a dry  humlock  ; — 
but  I might  hae  dune  weel  eneugh,  for  I keepit  the  wage 
and  the  free  house,  and  little  to  do  but  play  on  the  fiddle 
to  them,  but  for  this  Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  that’s  far 
waur  than  ever  his  father  was.” 

“ What !”  said  the  Master,  “ did  my  father — I mean 
did  his  father’s  son — this  last  Lord  Ravenswood,  deprive 
you  of  what  the  bounty  of  his  father  allowed  you  V9 
“ Ay,  troth  did  he,”  answered  the  old  man  ; “ for  he 
loot  his  affairs  gang  to  the  dogs,  and  let  in  this  Sir  William 
Ashton  on  us,  that  will  gi’e  naething  for  naething,  and 
just  removed  me  and  a’  the  puir  creatures  that  had  bite 
and  soup  at  the  castle,  and  a hole  to  put  our  heads  in, 
when  things  were  in  the  auld  way. 

“ If  Lord  Ravenswood  protected  his  people,  my  friend, 
while  he  had  the  means  of  doing  so,  I think  they  might 
spare  his  memory,”  replied  Ravenswood. 

“ Ye  are  welcome  to  your  ain  opinion,  sir,”  said  the 
sexton  ; “ but  ye  winna  persuade  me  that  he  did  his  duty, 
either  to  himsell  or  to  huz  puir  dependant  creatures,  in 
guiding  us  the  gate  he  has  done — he  might  hae  gi’en  us 
life-rent  tacks  of  our  bits  o’  houses  and  yards — and  me, 
that’s  an  auld  man,  living  in  yon  miserable  cabin,  that’s 
fitter  for  the  dead  than  the  quick,  and  killed  wi’  rheuma- 
tise,  and  John  Smith  in  my  dainty  bit  mailing,  and  his  win- 
dow glazen,  and  a’  because  Ravenswood  guided  his  gear 
like  a fule.” 

66  It  is  but  too  true,”  said  Ravenswood,  conscience- 
struck  ; “ the  penalties  of  extravagance  extend  far  be- 
yond the  prodigal’s  own  sufferings.” 

“ However,”  said  the  sexton,  “ this  young  man  Edgar 
is  like  to  avenge  my  wrangs  on  the  haill  of  his  kindred.” 
c<  Indeed  !”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ why  should  you  sup- 
pose so  9” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


267 


“ They  say  he  is  about  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Led- 
dy  Ashton  ; and  let  her  leddyship  get  his  head  ance  un- 
der her  oxter,  and  see  you  if  she  winna  gi’e  his  neck  a 
thravv.  Sorra  a bit  if  I were  him — Let  her  alane  for 
hauding  a5  thing  in  het  water  that  draws  near  her — sae 
the  warst  wish  I sail  wish  the  lad  is,  that  he  may  take 
his  ain  creditable  gate  o’t,  and  ally  himsell  wi’  his  fa- 
ther’s enemies,  that  have  taken  his  broad  lands  and  my 
bonnie  kail-yard  from  the  lawful  owners  thereof.” 

Cervantes  acutely  remarks,  that  flattery  is  pleasing 
even  from  the  mouth  of  a madman  ; and  censure,  as  well 
as  praise,  often  affects  us,  while  we  despise  the  opinions 
and  motives  on  which  it  is  founded  and  expressed.  Rav- 
enswood,  abruptly  reiterating  his  command  that  Alice’s 
funeral  should  be  attended  to,  flung  away  from  the  sexton, 
under  the  painful  impression  that  the  great,  as  wrell  as  the 
small  vulgar,  would  think  of  his  engagement  with  Lucy 
like  this  ignorant  and  selfish  peasant. 

“ And  1 have  stooped  to  subject  myself  to  these  cal- 
umnies, and  am  rejected  notwithstanding ! Lucy,  your 
faith  must  be  true  and  perfect  as  the  diamond,  to  com- 
pensate for  the  dishonour  which  men’s  opinions,  and  the 
conduct  of  your  mother,  attach  to  the  heir  of  Ravens- 
wood.” 

As  he  raised  his  eyes,  he  beheld  the  Marquis  of  A , 

who,  having  arrived  at  the  Tod’s-hole,  had  walked  forth 
to  look  for  his  kinsman. 

After  mutual  greetings,  he  made  some  apology  to  the 
Master  for  not  coming  forward  on  the  preceding  evening. 
“ It  was  his  wish,”  he  said,  “ to  have  done  so,  but  he  had 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  some  matters  which  induced 
him  to  delay  his  purpose.  I find,”  he  said,  “ there  has 
been  a love  affair  here,  kinsman  ; and  though  I might 
blame  you  for  not  having  communicated  with  me,  as  be- 
ing in  some  degree  the  chief  of  your  family” 

“ With  your  lordship’s  permission,”  said  Ravenswood, 
“ I am  deeply  grateful  for  the  interest  you  are  pleased  to 
take  in  me — but  I am  the  chief  and  head  of  my  family.” 


268 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


44  I know  it — I know  it,”  said  the  Marquis  ; “in  a 
strict  heraldic  and  genealogical  sense,  you  certainly  are 
so — what  I mean  is,  that  being  in  some  measure  under 
my  guardianship” 

44  1 must  take  the  liberty  to  say,  my  lord,”  answered 
Ravenswood — and  the  tone  in  which  he  interrupted  the 
Marquis  boded  no  long  duration  to  the  friendship  of  the 
noble  relatives,  when  he  himself  was  interrupted  by  the 
little  sexton,  who  came  puffing  after  them,  to  ask  if  their 
honours  would  choose  music  at  the  change-house  to  make 
up  for  short  cheer. 

44  We  want  no  music,”  said  the  Master  abruptly. 

44  Your  honour  disna  ken  what  ye’re  refusing,  then,” 
said  the  fiddler,  with  the  impertinent  freedom  of  his  pro- 
fession. 44  I can  play,  4 Will’t  thou  do’t  again,’  and 
4 the  Auld  Man’s  Mear’s  Dead,’  sax  times  better  than 
ever  Pattie  Birnie.  I’ll  get  my  fiddle  in  the  turning  of 
a coffin-screw.” 

44  Take  yourself  away,  sir,”  said  the  Marquis. 

44  And  if  your  honour  be  a north-country  gentleman,” 
said  the  persevering  minstrel,  44  whilk  I wad  judge  from 
your  tongue,  I can  play  4 Ligeram  Cosh,’  and  4 Mullin 
Dhu,’  and  4 the  Cummers  of  Athole.’  ” 

44  Take  yourself  away,  friend  ; you  interrupt  our  con- 
versation.” 

44  Or  if,  under  your  honour’s  favour,  ye  should  happen 
to  be  a thought  honest,  I can  play,  (this  in  a low  and  con- 
fidential tone,)  4 Killicrankie,’  and  4 the  King  shall  hae 
his  ain,’  and  4 the  Auld  Stuarts  back  again,’ — and  the 
wife  at  the  change-house  is  a decent  discreet  body,  nei- 
ther kens  nor  cares  what  toasts  are  drucken,  and  what 
tunes  are  played  in  her  house — she’s  deaf  to  a’  thing  hut 
the  clink  o’  the  siller.” 

The  Marquis  who  was  sometimes  suspected  of  jacobit- 
ism,  could  not  help  laughing  as  he  threw  the  fellow  a dol- 
lar, and  bid  him  go  play  to  the  servants  if  he  had  a mind, 
and  leave  them  to  peace. 

44  Aweel,  gentlemen,”  said  he,  44  I am  wishing  your 
honours  gude  day — I’ll  be  a’  the  better  of  the  dollar. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


269 


and  ye’ll  be  the  waur  of  wanting  the  music,  I’se  tell  ye — 
But  I’se  gang  hame,  and  finish  the  grave  in  the  tuning 
o’  a fiddle-string,  and  then  get  my  bread-winner,  and 
awa’  to  your  folk,  and  see  if  they  hae  better  lugs  than 
their  masters.” 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

True  love,  an’  thou  be  true, 

Thou  has  ane  kittle  part  to  play ; 

For  fortune,  fashion,  fancy,  and  thou, 

Maun  strive  for  many  a day. 

I’ve  kenn’d  by  mony  a friend’s  tale, 

Far  better  by  this  heart  of  mine, 

What  time  and  change  of  fancy  avail 
A true-love  knot  to  untwine. 

Henderson. 

“ I wished  to  tell  you,  my  good  kinsman,”  said  the 
Marquis,  “ now  that  we  are  quit  of  this  impertinent  fid- 
dler, that  I had  tried  to  discuss  this  love  affair  of  yours 
with  Sir  William  Ashton’s  daughter.  I never  saw  the 
young  lady  but  for  a few  minutes  to-day ; so,  being  a 
stranger  to  her  personal  merits,  I pay  a compliment  to 
you,  and  offer  her  no  offence  in  saying  you  might  do 
better.” 

“ My  lord,  I am  much  indebted  for  the  interest  you 
have  taken  in  my  affairs,”  said  Ravenswood.  “ I did 
not  intend  to  have  troubled  you  in  any  matter  concerning 
Miss  Ashton.  As  my  engagement  with  that  young  lady 
has  reached  your  lordship,  I can  only  say,  that  you  must 
necessarily  suppose  that  I was  aware  of  the  objections  to 
my  marrying  into  her  father’s  family,  and  of  course  must 
have  been  completely  satisfied  with  the  reasons  by  which 
these  objections  are  over-balanced,  since  I have  proceed- 
ed so  far  in  the  matter.” 

23*  vol.  i. 


270 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Nay,  Master,  if  you  had  heard  me  out,”  said  his 
noble  relation,  “ you  might  have  spared  that  observation  ; 
for,  without  questioning  that  you  had  reasons  which  seemed 
to  you  to  counterbalance  every  other  obstacle,  I set  my- 
self, by  every  means  that  it  became  me  to  use  towards  the 
Ashtons,  to  persuade  them  to  meet  your  views.” 

“ I am  obliged  to  your  lordship  for  your  unsolicited  in- 
tercession,” said  Ravenswood  ; “ especially  as  I am  sure 
your  lordship  would  never  carry  it  beyond  the  bounds 
which  it  became  me  to  use.” 

“ Of  that,”  said  the  Marquis,  “ you  may  be  confident ; 
I myself  felt  the  delicacy  of  the  matter  too  much  to  place 
a gentleman  nearly  connected  with  my  house  in  a degrad- 
ing or  dubious-situalion  with  these  Ashtons.  But  I pointed 
out  all  the  advantages  of  their  marrying  their  daughter 
into  a house  so  honourable,  and  so  nearly  related  with 
the  first  in  Scotland  ; I explained  the  exact  degree  of  re- 
lationship in  which  the  Ravenswoods  stand  to  ourselves  ; 
and  I even  hinted  how  political  matters  were  like  to  turn, 
and  what  cards  would  be  trumps  next  Parliament.  I 
said  I regarded  you  as  a son — or  a nephew,  or  so — ra- 
ther than  as  a more  distant  relation  ; and  that  I made 
your  afFan  Jntirely  my  own.” 

“ And  what  was  the  issue  of  your  lordship’s  explana- 
tion V9  said  Ravenswood,  in  some  doubt  whether  he 
should  resent  or  express  gratitude  for  his  interference. 

“ Why,  the  Lord  Keeper  would  have  listened  to  rea- 
son,” said  the  Marquis  ; “ he  is  rather  unwilling  to  leave 
his  place,  which  in  the  present  view  of  a change,  must 
vaik  ; and,  to  say  truth,  he  seemed  to  have  a liking  for 
you,  and  to  be  sensible  of  the  general  advantages  to  be 
attained  by  such  a match.  But  his  lady,  who  is  tongue 

of  the  trump,  Master” 

“ What  of  Lady  Ashton,  my  lord  ?”  said  Ravenswood  ; 
“ let  me  know  the  issue  of  this  extraordinary  conference 
— I can  bear  it.” 

“ I am  glad  of  that,  kinsman,”  said  the  Marquis,  “ for  I 
am  ashamed  to  tell  you  half  what  she  said.  It  is  enough 
— her  mind  is  made  up — and  the  mistress  of  a first-rate 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


271 


boarding-school  could  not  have  rejected  with  more  haugh- 
ty indifference  the  suit  of  a half-pay  Irish  officer,  beseech- 
ing permission  to  wait  upon  the  heiress  of  a West  India 
planter,  than  Lady  Ashton  spurned  every  proposal  of 
mediation  which  it  could  at  all  become  me  to  offer  in 
behalf  of  you,  my  good  kinsman.  1 cannot  guess  what 
she  means.  A more  honourable  connection  she  could 
not  form,  that’s  certain.  As  for  money  and  land,  that 
used  to  be  her  husband’s  business  rather  than  her’s  ; I 
really  think  she  hates  you  for  having  the  birth  that  her 
husband  wants,  and  perhaps  for  wanting  the  lands  that 
her  goodman  has.  But  I should  only  vex  you  to  say 
more  about  it — here  we  are  at  the  change-house.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  paused  as  he  entered  the 
cottage,  which  reeked  through  all  its  crevices,  and  they 
were  not  few,  from  the  exertions  of  the  Marquis’s  travel- 
ling-cooks,  to  supply  good-cheer,  and  spread,  as  it  were, 
a table  in  the  wilderness. 

My  Lord  Marquis,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ I already  men- 
tioned that  accident  has  put  your  lordship  in  possession 
of  a secret,  which,  with  my  consent,  should  have  remain- 
ed one  even  to  you,  my  kinsman,  for  some  time.  Since 
the  secret  was  to  part  from  my  custody,  and  that  of  the 
only  person  besides  who  was  intrusted  with  it,  I am  not 
sorry  it  should  have  reached  your  lordship’s  ears,  as  being 
fully  aware  that  you  are  my  noble  kinsman  and  friend.” 

“ You  may  believe  it  is  safely  lodged  with  me,  Master 
of  Ravenswood,”  said  the  Marquis  ; “ but  I should  like 
well  to  hear  you  say,  that  you  renounced  the  idea  of  an 
alliance,  which  you  can  hardly  pursue  without  a certain 
degree  of  degradation.” 

“ Of  that,  my  lord,  I shall  judge,”  answered  Ravens- 
wood— “ and  I hope  with  delicacy  as  sensitive  as  any 
of  my  friends.  But  I have  no  engagement  with  Sir  Wil- 
liam and  Lady  Ashton.  It  is  with  Miss  Ashton  alone  that 
I have  entered  upon  the  subject,  and  my  conduct  in  the 
matter  shall  be  entirely  ruled  by  her’s.  If  she  continues 
to  prefer  me  in  my  poverty  to  the  wealthier  suitors 
whom  her  friends  recommend,  I may  well  make  some 


272 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


sacrifice  to  her  sincere  affection — I may  well  surrender 
to  her  the  less  tangible  and  less  palpable  advantage  of 
birth,  and  the  deep-rooted  prejudices  of  family  hatred. 
If  Miss  Lucy  Ashton  should  change  her  mind  on  a sub- 
ject of  such  delicacy,  I trust  my  friends  will  be  silent  on 
my  disappointment,  and  I shall  know  how  to  make  my 
enemies  so.” 

“ Spoke  like  a gallant  young  nobleman,”  said  the  Mar- 
quis ; “ for  my  part  I have  that  regard  for  you,  that  I 
should  be  sorry  the  thing  went  on.  This  Sir  William 
Ashton  was  a pretty  enough  pettyfogging  kind  of  a law- 
yer twenty  years  ago,  and  betwixt  battling  at  the  bar,  and 
leading  in  committees  of  Parliament,  he  has  got  well  on 
— the  Darien  matter  lent  him  a lift,  for  he  had  good  intel- 
ligence and  sound  views,  and  sold  out  in  time — but  the 
best  work  is  had  out  of  him.  No  Scotch  government 
will  take  him  at  his  own,  or  rather  at  his  wife’s  extrava- 
gant valuation  ; and  betwixt  his  indecision  and  her  inso- 
lence, from  all  I can  guess,  he  will  outsit  his  market,  and 
be  had  cheap  when  no  one  will  bid  for  him.  I say  no- 
thing of  Miss  Ashton  ; but  I assure  you,  a connection 
with  her  father  will  be  neither  useful  nor  ornamental,  be- 
yond that  part  of  your  father’s  spoils  which  he  may  be 
prevailed  on  to  disgorge  by  way  of  tocher-good — and 
take  my  word  for  it,  you  will  get  more  if  you  have  spirit 
to  bell  the  cat  with  him  in  the  Scots  Parliament. — And 
I will  be  the  man,  cousin,”  continued  his  lordship,  “ will 
course  the  fox  for  you,  and  make  him  rue  the  day  that 
ever  he  refused  a composition  too  honourable  for  him, 
and  proposed  by  me  on  the  behalf  of  a kinsman.” 

There  was  something  in  all  this,  that,  as  it  were,  over- 
shot the  mark.  Ravenswood  could  not  disguise  from 
himself  that  his  noble  kinsman  had  more  reasons  for  tak- 
ing offence  at  the  reception  of  his  suit,  than  regarded  his 
interest  and  honour,  yet  he  could  neither  complain  nor 
be  surprised  that  it  should  be  so.  He  contented  himself 
therefore  with  repeating  that  his  attachment  was  to  Miss 
Ashton  personally ; that  he  desired  neither  wealth  nor 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


273 


aggrandizement  from  her  father’s  means  and  influence, 
and  that  nothing  should  prevent  his  keeping  his  engage- 
ment, except  her  own  express  desire  that  it  should  be 
relinquished — and  he  requested  as  a favour  that  the  mat- 
ter might  be  no  more  mentioned  betwixt  them  at  present, 

assuring  the  Marquis  of  A that  he  should  be  his 

confidant  in  its  progress  or  its  interruption. 

The  Marquis  soon  had  more  agreeable,  as  well  as  more 
interesting  subjects  on  which  to  converse.  A foot  post, 
who  had  followed  him  from  Edinburgh  to  Ravens- 
wood  Castle,  and  had  traced  his  steps  to  the  Tod’s-hole, 
brought  them  a packet  laded  with  good  news.  The  po- 
litical calculations  of  the  Marquis  had  proved  just,  both 
in  London  and  at  Edinburgh,  and  he  saw  almost  within 
his  grasp,  the  preeminence  for  which  he  had  panted. — 
The  refreshments  which  the  servants  had  prepared,  were 
now  put  on  the  table,  and  an  epicure  would  perhaps  have 
enjoyed  them  with  additional  zest,  from  the  contrast 
which  such  fare  afforded  to  the  miserable  cabin  in  which 
it  was  served  up. 

The  turn  of  conversation  corresponded  with  and  added 
to  the  social  feelings  of  the  company.  The  Marquis  ex- 
panded with  pleasure  on  the  power  which  probable  inci- 
dents were  like  to  assign  to  him,  and  on  the  use  which  he 
hoped  to  make  of  it  in  serving  his  kinsman  Ravenswood. 
Ravenswood  could  not  but  repeat  the  gratitude  which 
he  really  felt,  even  when  he  considered  the  topic  as  too 
long  dwelt  upon.  The  wine  was  excellent,  notwithstand- 
ing its  having  been  brought  in  a runlet  from  Edinburgh  ; 
and  the  habits  of  the  Marquis,  when  engaged  with  good 
cheer,  were  somewhat  sedentary.  And  so  it  fell  out  that 
they  delayed  their  journey  two  hours  later  than  was  their 
original  purpose. 

“ But  what  of  that,  my  good  young  friend  VJ  said  the 
Marquis  ; “ your  Castle  of  Wolf’s  Crag  is  but  five  or  six 
miles  distance,  and  will  afford  the  same  hospitality  to  your 

kinsman  of  A , that  it  gave  to  this  same  Sir  William 

Ashton,” 


274 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Sir  William  took  the  castle  by  storm,”  said  Ravens- 
wood,  “ and,  like  many  a victor,  had  little  reason  to  con- 
gratulate himself  on  his  conquest.” 

“ Well,  well !”  said  Lord  A , whose  dignity  was 

something  relaxed  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk, — “ I see 
I must  bribe  you  to  harbour  me — come,  pledge  me  in  a 
bumper  health  to  the  last  young  lady  that  slept  at  Wolfs 
Crag,  and  liked  her  quarters. — My  bones  are  not  so  ten- 
der as  hers,  and  I am  resolved  to  occupy  her  apartment 
to-night,  that  I may  judge  how  hard  the  couch  is  that 
love  can  soften.” 

“ Your  lordship  may  choose  what  penance  you  please,” 
said  Ravenswood  ) “ but  I assure  you,  I should  expect 
my  old  servant  to  hang  himself,  or  throw  himself  from  the 
battlements,  should  your  lordship  visit  him  so  unexpect- 
edly— I do  assure  you,  we  are  totally  and  literally  un- 
provided.” 

But  his  declaration  only  brought  from  his  noble  patron 
an  assurance  of  his  own  total  indifference  as  to  every  spe- 
cies of  accommodation,  and  his  determination  to  see  the 
tower  of  Wolfs  Crag.  His  ancestor,  he  said,  had  been 
feasted  there,  when  he  went  forward  with  the  then  Lord 
Ravenswood  to  the  fatal  battle  of  Flodden,  in  which  they 
both  fell.  Thus  hard  pressed,  the  Master  offered  to  ride 
forward  to  get  matters  put  in  such  preparation,  as  time 
and  circumstances  admitted  ; but  the  Marquis  protested, 
his  kinsman  must  afford  him  his  company,  and  would  onl} 
consent  that  an  avant-courier  should  carry  to  the  destined 
Seneschal,  Caleb  Balderstone,  the  unexpected  news  of 
this  invasion. 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  soon  after  accompanied 
the  Marquis  in  his  carriage,  as  the  latter  had  proposed  ; 
and  when  they  became  better  acquainted  in  the  progress 
of  the  journey,  his  noble  relation  explained  the  very  liberal 
views  which  he  entertained  for  his  relation’s  preferment,  in 
case  of  the  success  of  his  own  political  schemes.  They 
related  to  a secret  and  highly  important  commission  be- 
yond sea,  which  could  only  be  intrusted  to  a person  of 
rank,  and  talent,  and  perfect  confidence,  and  which,  as  it 


THE  BRIDE  OF  URMERMOOR. 


275 


required  great  trust  and  reliance  on  the  envoy  employed, 
could  not  but  prove  both  honourable  and  advantageous 
to  him.  We  need  not  enter  into  the  nature  and  purpose 
of  this  commission,  farther  than  to  acquaint  our  readers 
that  the  charge  was  in  prospect  highly  acceptable  to  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood,  who  hailed  with  pleasure  the 
hope  of  emerging  from  his  present  state  of  indigence  and 
inaction,  into  independence  and  honourable  exertion. 

While  he  listened  thus  eagerly  to  the  details  with  which 
the  Marquis  now  thought  it  necessary  to  intrust  him,  the 
messenger  who  had  been  despatched  to  the  Tower  of 
Wolfs  Crag,  returned  with  Caleb  Balderstone’s  humble 
duty,  and  an  assurance,  that,  “ a’  should  be  in  seemly 
order,  sic  as  the  hurry  of  time  permitted,  to  receive  their 
lordships  as  it  behoved.” 

Ravenswood  was  too  well  accustomed  to  his  Senes- 
chal’s mode  of  acting  and  speaking,  to  hope  much  from 
this  confident  assurance.  He  knew  that  Caleb  acted 
upon  the  principle  of  the  Spanish  generals,  in  the  cam- 
paign of , who,  much  to  the  perplexity  of  the  Prince 

of  Orange,  their  commander-in-chief,  used  to  report  their 
troops  as  full  in  number,  and  possessed  of  all  necessary 
points  of  equipment,  not  considering  it  consistent  with 
their  dignity,  or  the  honour  of  Spain,  to  confess  any  de- 
ficiency either  in  men  or  munition,  until  the  want  of  both 
was  unavoidably  discovered  in  the  day  of  battle.  Ac- 
cordingly, Ravenswood  thought  it  necessary  to  give  the 
Marquis  some  hint,  that  the  fair  assurance  which  they 
had  just  received  from  Caleb,  did  not  by  any  means  en- 
sure them  against  a very  indifferent  reception. 

“ You  do  yourself  injustice,  Master,”  said  the  Mar- 
quis, “ or  you  wish  to  surprise  me  agreeably.  From 
this  window  I see  a great  light  in  the  direction,  where,  if 
I remember  aright,  Wolfs  Crag  lies  ; and,  to  judge  from 
the  splendour  which  the  old  tower  sheds  around  it,  the 
preparations  for  our  reception  must  be  of  no  ordinary  de- 
scription. I renumber  your  father  putting  the  same  de- 
ception on  me,  when  we  went  to  the  tower  for  a few  days 
hawking,  about  twenty  years  since,  and  yet  we  spent  our 


276 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


time  as  jollily  at  Wolfs  Crag  as  we  could  have  done  at 

my  own  hunting-seat  at  B .” 

“ Your  lordship,  1 fear,  will  experience  that  the  faculty 
of  the  present  proprietor  to  entertain  his  friends  is  great- 
ly abridged,”  said  Ravenswood  ; “ the  will,  I need  hardly 
say,  remains  the  same.  But  I am  as  much  at  a loss  as 
your  lordship  to  account  for  so  strong  and  brilliant  a light 
as  is  now  above  Wolfs  Crag, — the  windows  of  the  tower 
are  few  and  narrow,  and  those  of  the  lower  story  are 
hidden  from  us  by  the  walls  of  the  court. — I cannot 
conceive  .that  any  illumination  of  an  ordinary  nature 
could  afford  such  a blaze  of  light.” 

The  mystery  was  soon  explained  ; for  the  cavalcade 
almost  instantly  halted,  and  the  voice  of  Caleb  Balder- 
stone  was  heard  at  the  coach  window,  exclaiming,  in  ac- 
cents broken  by  grief  and  fear,  “ Och,  gentlemen — Och, 
my  gude  lords — Och,  haud  to  the  right ! — Wolf’s  Crag  is 
burning,  bower  and  ha’ — a’  the  rich  plenishing  outside 
and  inside — a’  the  fine  graith,  pictures,  tapestries,  needle- 
work, hangings,  and  other  decorements — a’  in  a bleeze, 
as  if  they  were  nae  mair  than  sae  mony  peats,  or  as 
muckle  pease  strae.  Haud  to  the  right,  gentlemen,  I 
implore  ye — there  is  some  sma’  provision  making  at 
Lucky  Sma’trash’s — but  O,  wae  for  this  night,  and  wae 
for  me  that  lives  to  see  it  !” 

Ravenswood  was  at  first  stunned  by  this  new  and  un- 
expected calamity  ; but,  after  a moment’s  recollection, 
he  sprang  from  the  carriage,  and  hastily  bidding  his  noble 
kinsman  good  night,  was  about  to  ascend  the  hill  towards 
the  castle,  the  broad  and  full  conflagration  of  which  now 
flung  forth  a high  column  of  red  light,  that  flickered  far 
to  seaward  upon  the  dashing  waves  of  the  ocean. 

“ Take  a horse,  Master,”  exclaimed  the  Marquis, 
greatly  affected  by  this  additional  misfortune,  so  unex- 
pectedly heaped  upon  his  young  protegee  ; “ and  give  me 
my  ambling  palfrey  ; — and  haste  forward,  you  knaves,  to 
see  what  can  be  done  to  save  the  furniture,  or  to  extin- 
guish the  fire — ride,  you  knaves, Tor  your  lives.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


277 


The  attendants  bustled  together,  and  began  to  strike 
their  horses  to  the  spur,  and  called  upon  Caleb  to  show 
them  the  road.  But  the  voice  of  that  careful  Seneschal 
was  heard  above  the  tumult,  “ O stop — sirs,  stop — turn 
bridle,  for  the  luve  of  mercy — add  not  loss  of  lives  to 
the  loss  of  warld’s  gear. — Thirty  barrels  of  powthei\ 
landed  out  of  a Dunkirk  dogger  in  the  auld  Lord’s  time 
— a’  in  the  vau’ts  of  the  auld  tower, — the  fire  canna  be 
far  afF  it,  1 trow — Lord’s  sake,  to  the  right,  lads — to  the 
right— let’s  pit  the  hill  atween  us  and  peril, — a wap  wi’  a 
corner-stane  o’  Wolfs  Crag  wad  defy  the  doctor.” 

It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  this  annunciation  hur- 
ried the  Marquis  and  his  attendants  into  the  route  which 
Caleb  prescribed,  dragging  Ravenswood  along  with  them, 
although  there  was  much  in  the  matter  which  he  could 
not  comprehend.  “ Gunpowder  !”  he  exclaimed,  lay- 
ing hold  of  Caleb,  who  in  vain  endeavoured  to  escape 
from  him,  “ what  gunpowder  How  any  quantity  of 
powder  could  be  in  Wolfs  Crag  without  my  knowledge, 

I cannot  possibly  comprehend.” 

“ But  I can,”  interrupted  the  Marquis,  w hispering  him, 

“ I can  comprehend  it  thoroughly — for  God’s  sake,  ask 
him  no  more  questions  at  present.” 

u There  it  is  now,”  said  Caleb,  extricating  himself 
from  his  master,  and  adjusting  his  dress,  “ your  honour 
will  believe  his  lordship’s  honourable  testimony — His 
lordship  minds  weel,  how  in  the  year  that  him  they  ca’d 
King  Willie  died” 

“ Hush  ! hush,  my  good  friend  !”  said  the  Marquis  ; 

“ I shall  satisfy  your  master  upon  that  subject.” 

And  the  people  at  Wolf  s-hope” — said  Ravensw7ood, 

“ did  none  of  them  come  to  your  assistance  before  the 
flame  got  so  high  V9 

“ Ay  did  they,  mony  ane  o’  them,  the  rapscallions,” 
said  Caleb  ; “ but  truly  I was  in  nae  hurry  to  let  them 
into  the  tower,  where  there  were  so  much  plate  and  val- 
uables.” 

24  vol.  i. 


278 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


u Confound  you  for  an  impudent  liar,”  said  Ravens- 
wood,  in  uncontrollable  ire,  “ there  was  not  a single 
ounce  of’ 

“ Forbye,”  said  the  butler,  most  irreverently  raising 
his  voice  to  a pitch  which  drowned  his  master’s,  “ the 
fire  made  fast  on  us,  owing  to  the  store  of  tapestry  and 
carved  timmer  in  the  banquetting  ha’,  and  the  loons  ran 
like  scauded  rats  so  soon  as  they  heard  of  the  gun- 
pouther.” 

“ I do  entreat,”  said  the  Marquis  to  Ravenswood, 
“ you  will  ask  him  no  more  questions.” 

“ Only  one,  my  lord — What  has  become  of  poor 
Mysie  9” 

“ Mysie  9”  said  Caleb — “ I had  nae  time  to  look 
about  ony  Mysie — she’s  in  the  tower,  I’se  warrant,  biding 
her  awful  doom.” 

“ By  heaven  !”  said  Ravenswood,  “ I do  not  under- 
stand all  this  ! the  life  of  a faithful  old  creature  is  at  stake 
— -my  lord,  I will  be  withheld  no  longer — I will  at  least 
ride  up,  and  see  whether  the  danger  is  as  imminent  as 
this  old  fool  pretends.” 

“ Weel,  then,  as  I live  by  bread,”  said  Caleb,  “ My- 
sie is  weel  and  safe.  I saw  her  out  of  the  castle  before 
I left  it  mysell — Was  I ganging  to  forget  an  auld  fellow- 
servant  7” 

“ What  made  you  tell  me  the  contrary  this  moment  9” 
said  his  master. 

“ Did  I say  otherwise  9”  answered  Caleb;  “ then  I 
maun  hae  been  dreaming  surely,  or  this  awsome  night  has 
turned  my  judgment — but  safe  she  is,  and  ne’er  a living 
soul  in  the  castle,  a’  the  better  for  them — they  wad  haVe 
gotten  an  unco  heezy.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood,  upon  this  assurance  be- 
ing solemnly  reiterated,  and  notwithstanding  his  extreme 
wish  to  witness  the  last  explosion,  which  was  to  ruin  to 
the  ground  the  mansion  of  his  fathers,  suffered  himself 
to  be  dragged  onward  towards  the  village  of  Wolf  s-hope, 
where  not  only  the  change-house,  but  that  of  our  well- 
known  friend  the  cooper,  were  all  prepared  for  reception 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR 


279 


of  himself  and  his  noble  guest,  with  a liberality  of  pro- 
vision which  requires  some  explanation. 

We  omitted  to  mention  in  its  place,  that  Lockhard  hav- 
ing fished  out  the  truth  concerning  the  mode  by  which 
Caleb  had  obtained  the  supplies  for  his  banquet,  the 
I-jord  Keeper,  amused  with  the  incident,  and  desirous  at 
the  time  to  gratify  Ravenswood,  had  recommended  the 
cooper  of  WolPs-hope  to  the  official  situation  under  gov- 
ernment, the  prospect  of  which  had  reconciled  him  to 
the  loss  of  his  wild-fowl.  Mr.  Girder’s  preferment  had 
occasioned  a pleasing  surprise  to  old  Caleb  ; for  when, 
some  days  after  his  master’s  departure,  he  found  himself 
absolutely  compelled,  by  some  necessary  business,  to  visit 
the  fishing  hamlet,  and  was  gliding  like  a ghost  past  the 
door  of  the  cooper,  for  fear  of  being  summoned  to  give 
some  account  of  the  progress  of  the  solicitation  in  his 
favour,  or,  more  probably,  that  the  inmates  might  upbraid 
him  with  the  false  hope  he  had  held  out  upon  the  sub- 
ject, he  heard  himself,  not  without  some  apprehension, 
summoned  at  once  in  treble,  tenor,  and  bass, — a trio  per- 
formed by  the  voices  of  Mrs.  Girder,  old  Dame  Loup- 
the-dyke,  and  the  goodman  of  the  dwelling — “ Mr. 
Caleb — Mr.  Caleb — Mr.  Caleb  Balderstone  ! I hope  ye 
arena  ganging  dry-lipped  by  our  door,  and  we  sae  muckle 
indebted  to  you.” 

This  might  be  said  ironically  as  well  as  in  earnest. 
Caleb  augured  the  worst,  turned  a deaf  ear  to  the  trio 
aforesaid,  and  was  moving  doggedly  on,  his  ancient  cas- 
tor pulled  over  his  brows,  and  his  eyes  bent  on  the 
ground,  as  if  to  count  the  flinty  pebbles  with  which  the 
rude  pathway  was  causewayed.  But  on  a sudden  he 
found  himself  surrounded  in  his  progress,  like  a stately 
merchantman  in  the  Gut  of  Gibraltar,  (I  hope  the  ladies 
will  excuse  the  tarpaulin  phrase,)  by  three  Algerine 
gallies. 

“ Gude  guide  us,  Mr.  Balderstone  !”  said  Mrs.  Girder. 

“ Wha  wad  hae  thought  it  of  an  auld  and  kenn’d 
friend  !”  said  the  mother. 


280 


TAXES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ And  no  sae  muckle  as  stay  to  receive  our  thanks,” 
said  the  cooper  himself,  “ and  frae  the  like  o’  me  that 
seldom  offers  them.  I am  sure  I hope  there’s  nae  ill 
seed  sawn  between  us,  Mr.  Balderstone — Ony  man  that 
has  said  to  ye,  1 am  no  gratefu’  for  the  situation  of 
Queen’s  cooper,  let  me  hae  a whample  at  him  wi’  mine 
eatche* — that’s  a’.” 

u My  good  friends — my  dear  friends,”  said  Caleb, 
still  doubting  how  the  certainty  of  the  matter  might  stand, 
“ what  needs  a’  this  ceremony  9 — ane  tries  to  serve  their 
friends,  and  sometimes  they  may  happen  to  prosper,  and 
sometimes  to  misgi’e — naething  I care  to  be  fashed  wi’ 
less  than  thanks — I never  could  bide  them.” 

“ Faith,  Mr.  Balderstone,  ye  suld  hae  been  fashed  wi’ 
few  o’  mine,”  said  the  downright  man  of  staves  and 
hoops,  “ if  I had  only  your  good-will  to  thank  ye  for — I 
suld  e’en  hae  set  the  guse,  and  the  wild-deukes,  and  the 
runlet  of  sack,  to  balance  that  account.  Gude-will,  man, 
is  a geizen’d  tub,  that  hauds  in  nae  liquor — but  gude 
deed’s  like  the  cask,  tight,  round,  and  sound,  that  will 
haud  liquor  for  the  King.” 

“ Have  ye  no  heard  of  our  letter,”  said  the  mother- 
in-law,  “ making  our  John  the  Queen’s  cooper  for  cer- 
tain 9 — and  scarce  a chield  that  had  ever  hammered  gird 
upon  tub  but  was  applying  for  it  9” 

“ Have  I heard  ! ! !”  said  Caleb,  (who  now  found 
how  the  wind  set,)  with  an  accent  of  exceeding  con- 
tempt at  the  doubt  expressed — “ Have  I heard,  quo’ 
she  ! ! !” — and  as  he  spoke,  he  changed  his  shambling, 
skulking,  dodging  pace,  into  a manly  and  authoritative 
step,  re-adjusted  his  cocked  hat,  and  suffered  his  brow' 
to  emerge  from  under  it  in  all  the  pride  of  aristocracy, 
like  the  sun  from  behind  a cloud. 

“ To  be  sure,  he  canna  but  hae  heard,”  said  the  good 
woman. 

“ Ay,  to  be  sure  it’s  impossible  but  I should,”  said 
Caleb  ; “ and  sae  I’ll  be  the  first  to  kiss  ye,  joe,  and 


Anglice,  adze. 


ME  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


281 


wish  you,  cooper,  much  joy  of  your  preferment,  naething 
doubting  but  ye  ken  wha  are  your  friends,  and  have  help- 
ed ye,  and  can  help  ye.  I thought  it  right  to  look  a wee 
strange  upon  it  first,”  added  Caleb,  “ just  to  see  if  ye 
were  made  of  the  right  mettle — but  ye  ring  true,  lad,  ye 
ring  true  !” 

So  saying,  with  a most  lordly  air  he  kissed  the  women, 
and  abandoned  his  hand,  with  an  air  of  serene  patronage 
to  the  hearty  shake  of  Mr.  Girder’s  horn-hard  palm. 
Upon  this  complete,  and  to  Caleb  most  satisfactory  in- 
formation, he  did  not,  it  may  readily  be  believed,  hesitate 
to  accept  an  invitation  to  a solemn  feast,  to  which  were 
invited,  not  only  all  the  notables  of  the  village,  but  even 
his  ancient  antagonist,  Mr.  Dingwall  himself.  At  this 
festivity  he  was,  of  course,  the  most  welcome  and  most 
honoured  guest ; and  so  well  did  he  ply  the  company 
with  stories  of  what  he  could  do  with  his  master,  his 
master  with  the  Lord  Keeper,  the  Lord  Keeper  with  the 
Council,  and  the  Council  with  the  King,  that,  before  the 
company  dismissed,  (which  was,  indeed,  rather  at  an 
early  hour  than  a late  one,)  every  man  of  note  in  the 
village  was  ascending  to  the  top-gallant  of  some  ideal 
preferment  by  the  ladder  of  ropes  which  Caleb  had  pre- 
sented to  his  imagination.  Nay,  the  cunning  butler  re- 
gained in  that  moment,  not  only  all  the  influence  he  pos- 
sessed formerly  over  the  villagers,  when  the  baronial 
family  wThich  he  served  were  at  the  proudest,  but  acquir- 
ed even  an  accession  of  importance.  The  writer — the 
very  attorney  himself — such  is  the  thirst  of  preferment- 
felt  the  force  of  the  attraction,  and,  taking  an  opportuni- 
ty to  draw  Caleb  into  a corner,  spoke,  with  affectionate 
regret,  of  the  declining  health  of  the  sheriff-clerk  of  the 
county. 

“ An  excellent  man — a most  valuable  man,  Mr.  Caleb 
— -but  fat  sail  I say  ! — we  are  peer  feckless  bodies — here 
the  day,  and  awa’  by  cock-screech  the  morn — and  if  he 
failzies,  there  maun  be  somebody  in  his  place — and  gif 
that  ye  could  airt  it  my  way,  1 sail  be  thankful,  man — a 
24*  vol.  i. 


282 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLOIU). 


gluve  stuffed  wi’  gowd  nobles — an’  hark  ye,  man,  some- 
thing canny  till  yoursell — and  the  Wolffs-hope  carles  to 
settle  kindly  wi’  the  Master  of  Ravenswood — that  is, 
Lord  Ravenswood — God  bless  his  lordship  !” 

A smile,  and  a hearty  squeeze  by  the  hand,  was  the 
suitable  answer  to  this  overture — and  Caleb  made  his 
escape  from  the  jovial  party,  in  order  to  avoid  commit- 
ting himself  by  any  special  promises. 

“ The  Lord  be  gude  to  me,”  said  Caleb,  when  he 
found  himself  in  the  open  air,  and  at  liberty  to  give  vent 
to  the  self-exultation  with  which  he  was,  as  it  were,  dis- 
tended ; “ did  ever  ony  man  see  sic  a set  of  green  gais- 
lings ! — the  very  pick-maws  and  solan  geese  out  by  yon- 
der at  the  Bass  hae  ten  times  their  sense — God,  an’  I 
had  been  the  Lord  High  Commissioner  to  the  Estates  o’ 
Parliament,  they  conldna  hae  beflumm’d  me  mair — and, 
to  speak  Heaven’s  truth,  I could  hardly  hae  beflumm’d 
them  better  neither.  But  the  writer — ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! — 
Ah,  ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! — mercy  on  me,  that  I suld  live  in  my 
auld  days  to  gi’e  the  gang-bye  to  the  very  writer  ! — 
Sheriff-clerk  ! ! ! — But  I hae  an  auld  account  to  settle  wi’ 
the  carle  ; and  to  make  amends  for  bye-ganes,  the  office 
shall  just  cost  him  as  much  time-serving  and  tide-serving, 
as  if  he  were  to  get  it  in  gude  earnest — of  whilk  there  is 
sma’  appearance,  unless  the  Master  learns  mair  the  ways 
of  this  world,  whilk  it  is  muckle  to  be  doubted  that  he 
never  will  do.” 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Why  flames  yon  far  summit — why  shoot  to  the  blast 
Those  embers,  like  stars  from  the  firmament  cast  ? — 

?Tis  the  fire-shower  of  ruin,  all  dreadfully  driven 
From  thine  eyry,  that  beacons  the  darkness  of  Heaven. 

Campbell, 

The  circumstances  announced  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
last  chapter,  will  account  for  the  ready  and  cheerful  re- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


283 


ception  of  the  Marquis  of  A and  the  Master  of  Ra- 

venswood  in  the  village  of  WolPs-hope.  In  fact,  Caleb 
had  no  sooner  announced  the  conflagration  of  the  tower, 
than  the  whole  hamlet  were  upon  foot  to  hasten  to  extin- 
guish the  flames.  And  although  that  zealous  adherent 
diverted  their  zeal  by  intimating  the  formidable  con- 
tents of  the  subterranean  apartments,  yet  the  check  only 
turned  their  assiduity  in  another  direction.  Never  had 
there  been  such  slaughtering  of  capons,  and  fat  geese, 
and  barn-door  fowls, — never  such  boiling  of  reested 
hams, — never  such  making  of  car-cakes  and  sweet  scones, 
Selkirk  bannocks,  cookies,  and  petticoat-tails, — delicacies 
little  known  to  the  present  generation.  Never  had  there 
been  such  a tapping  of  barrels,  and  such  uncorking  of 
grey-beards,  in  the  village  of  WolPs-hope.  All  the  infe- 
rior houses  were  thrown  open  for  the  reception  of  the 
Marquis’s  dependants,  who  came,  it  was  thought,  as  pre- 
cursors of  the  shower  of  preferment,  which  hereafter  was 
to  leave  the  rest  of  Scotland  dry,  in  order  to  distil  its 
rich  dews  on  the  village  of  WolPs-hope  under  Lammer- 
moor.  The  minister  put  in  his  claim  to  have  the  guests 
of  distinction  lodged  at  the  Manse,  having  »his  eye,  it  was 
thought,  upon  a neighbouring  preferment,  where  the  in- 
cumbent was  sickly  ; but  Mr.  Balderstone  destined  that 
honour  to  the  cooper,  his  wife,  and  wife’s  mother,  who 
danced  for  joy  at  the  preferment  thus  assigned  them. 

Many  a beck  and  many  a bow  welcomed  these  noble 
guests  to  as  good  entertainment  as  persons  of  such  rank 
could  set  before  such  visiters  ; and  the  old  dame,  who 
had  formerly  lived  in  Ravenswood  Castle,  and  knew,  as 
she  said,  the  ways  of  the  nobility,  was  no  ways  wanting 
in  arranging  matters,  as  well  as  circumstances  permitted, 
according  to  the  etiquette  of  the  times.  The  cooper’s 
house  was  so  roomy,  that  each  guest  had  his  separate  retir- 
ing-room, to  which  they  were  ushered  with  all  due  cere- 
mony, while  the  plentiful  supper  was  in  the  act  of  being 
placed  upon  the  table. 

Ravenswood  no  sooner  found  himself  alone,  than,  im- 
pelled by  a thousand  feelings,  he  left  the  apartment,  the 


284 


TAXES  OE  MY  XATVDXORD. 


house,  and  the  village,  and  hastily  retraced  his  steps  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  which  rose  betwixt  the  village,  and 
screened  it  from  the  tower,  in  order  to  view  the  final  fall 
of  the  house  of  his  fathers.  Some  idle  boys  from  the 
hamlet  had  taken  the  same  direction  out  of  curiosity, 
having  first  witnessed  the  arrival  of  the  coach-and-six  and 
its  attendants.  As  they  ran  one  by  one  past  the  Master, 
calling  to  each  other  to  “ come  and  see  the  auld  tower 
blaw  up  in  the  lift  like  the  peelings  of  an  ingan,”  he 
could  not  but  feel  himself  moved  with  indignation. 
“ And  these  are  the  sons  of  my  father’s  vassals,”  he 
said — “ of  men  bound,  both  by  law  and  gratitude,  to  fol- 
low our  steps  through  battle,  and  fire  and  flood  ; and 
now  the  destruction  of  their  liege-lord’s  house  is  but  a 
holiday’s  sight  to  them  !” 

These  exasperating  reflections  were  partly  expressed 
in  the  acrimony  with  which  he  exclaimed,  on  feeling 
himself  pulled  by  the  cloak, — “ What  do  you  want,  you 
dog  9” 

“ I am  a dog,  and  an  auld  dog  too,”  answered  Caleb, 
for  it  was  he  who  had  taken  the  freedom  ; “ and  I am 
like  to  get  a dog’s  wages — but  it  does  not  signification  a 
pinch  of  sneeshing  for  I am  ower  auld  a dog  to  learn  new 
tricks,  or  to  follow  a new  master.” 

As  he  spoke,  Ravenswood  attained  the  ridge  of  the 
hill  from  which  Wolf’s  Crag  was  visible ; the  flames  had 
entirely  sunk  down,  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  there  was 
only  a dusky  reddening  upon  the  clouds  immediately  over 
the  castle,  which  seemed  the  reflection  of  the  embers 
of  the  sunken  fire.” 

66  The  place  cannot  have  blown  up,”  said  the  Mas- 
ter ; “ we  must  have  heard  the  report — if  a quarter  of 
the  gunpowder  was  there  you  tell  me  of,  it  would  have 
been  heard  twenty  miles  off.” 

“ It’s  very  like  it  wad,”  said  Balderstone,  composedly. 

“ Then  the  fire  cannot  have  reached  the  vaults” 

“ It’s  like  no,”  answered  Caleb,  with  the  same  impen- 
etrable gravity. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR, 


285 


“ Hark  ye,  Caleb,”  said  his  master,  “ this  grows  a 
little  too  much  for  my  patience.  I must  go  and  examine 
how  matters  stand  at  Wolfs  Crag  myself.” 

“ Your  honour  is  ganging  to  gang  nae  sic  gate,”  said 
Caleb,  firmly. 

“ And  why  not?”  said  Ravenswood,  sharply  ; “ who 
or  what  shall  prevent  me  9” 

“ Even  I mysell,”  said  Caleb,  with  the  same  determi- 
nation. 

“ You,  Balderstone  !”  replied  the  Master  ; “you  are 
forgetting  yourself,  I think.” 

u But  I think  no,”  said  Balderstone  ; “ for  I can  just 
tell  ye  a’  about  the  castle  on  this  know-head  as  well  as  if 
ye  were  at  it.  Only  dinna  pit  yoursell  into  a kippage, 
and  expose  yoursell  before  the  weans,  or  before  the  Mar- 
quis, when  ye  gang  down  bye.” 

“ Speak  out,  you  old  fool,”  replied  his  master,  “ and 
let  me  know  the  best  and  the  worst  at  once.” 

“ Ou,  the  best  and  the  warst  is  just  that  the  tower  is 
standing  haill  and  feir,  as  safe  and  as  empty  as  when  ye 
left  it.” 

“ Indeed  ! — and  the  fire  !”  said  Ravenswood. 

“ Not  a gleed  of  fire,  then,  except  the  bit  kindling 
peat,  and  maybe  a spunk  in  Mysie’s  cutty-pipe,”  replied 
Caleb. 

“But  the  flame?”  demanded  Ravenswood;  “the 
broad  blaze,  which  might  have  been  seen  ten  miles  off— 
what  occasioned  that  ?” 

“ Hout  awa  ! it’s  an  auld  saying  and  a true, — 

Little’s  the  light 

Will  be  seen  far  in  a mirk  night. 

A wheen  fern  and  horse  litter  that  I fired  in  the  court- 
yard, after  sending  back  the  loon  of  a footman  ; and,  to 
speak  Heaven’s  truth,  the  next  time  that  ye  send  or  bring 
ony  body  here,  let  them  be  gentles  allenarly,  without  ony 
fremd  servants,  like  that  chield  Lockhard,  to  be  gledging 
and  gleeing  about,  and  looking  upon  the  wrang  side  of 
ane’s  housekeeping,  to  the  discredit  of  the  family,  and 


286 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


forcing  ane  to  damn  their  souls  wi’  telling  ae  lee  after 
another  faster  than  I can  count  them — I wad  rather  set 
fire  to  the  tower  in  good  earnest,  and  burn  it  ower  my 
ain  head  into  the  bargain,  or  I see  the  family  dishonoured 
in  the  sort.” 

“ Upon  my  word,  I am  infinitely  obliged  by  the  pro- 
posal, Caleb,”  said  his  master,  scarce  able  to  restrain  his 
laughter,  though  rather  angry  at  the  same  time.  “ But 
the  gunpowder  9 — is  there  such  a thing  in  the  tower  9 — 
the  Marquis  seemed  to  know  of  it.” 

“ The  pouther — ha  ! ha  ! ha  ! — the  Marquis— ha  ! ha  ! 
ha  !”  replied  Caleb  ; “ if  your  honour  were  to  brain  me, 
I behooved  to  laugh — the  Marquis — the  pouther — was  it 
there  9 ay,  it  was  there.  Did  he  ken  o’t  9 — my  certie  ! 
the  Marquis  kenn’d  o’t,  and  it  was  the  best  o’  the  game  ; 
for,  when  I couldna  pacify  your  honour  wi’  a’  that  I could 
say,  I aye  threw  out  a word  mair  about  the  gunpouther, 
and  garr’d  the  Marquis  tak  the  job  in  his  ain  hand. 

“ But  you  have  not  answered  my  question,”  said  the 
Master,  impatiently  ; “ how  came  the  powder  there,  and 
where  is  it  now  9” 

“ Ou,  it  cam  there,  an  ye  maun  needs  ken,”  said 
Caleb,  looking  mysteriously,  and  whispering,  “ when 
there  was  like  to  be  a wee  bit  rising  here ; and  the  Mar- 
quis, and  a’  the  great  lords  of  the  north,  were  a’  in  it, 
and  mony  a gudely  gun  and  broad-sword  were  ferried 
ower  frae  Dunkirk  forbye  the  pouther — awfu’  wark  we 
had  getting  them  into  the  tower  under  cloud  o’  night,  for 
ye  maun  think  it  wasna  every  body  could  be  trusted  wi’ 
sae  kittle  jobs — But  if  ye  will  gae  hame  to  your  supper, 
I will  tell  you  a’  about  it  as  ye  gang  down.” 

“ And  these  wretched  boys,”  said  Ravenswood,  “ is 
it  your  pleasure  they  are  to  sit  there  all  night,  to  wait  for 
the  blowing  up  of  a tower  that  is  not  even  on  fire  9” 

“ Surely  not,  if  it  is  your  honour’s  pleasure  that  they 
suld  gang  hame  ; although,”  added  Caleb,  “it  wadnado 
them  a grain’s  damage — they  wad  screigh  less  the  next 
day,  and  sleep  the  sounder  at  e’en — But  just  as  your 
honour  likes.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  1AMMERM00R. 


287 


Stepping  accordingly  towards  the  urchins  who  manned 
the  knolls  near  which  they  stood,  Caleb  informed  them, 
in  an  authoritative  tone,  that  their  Honours  Lord  Ravens- 

wood  and  the  Marquis  of  A had  given  orders  that 

the  tower  was  not  to  blow  up  till  the  next  day  at  noon. 
The  boys  dispersed  upon  this  comfortable  assurance. 
One  or  two,  however,  followed  Caleb  for  more  informa- 
tion, particularly  the  urchin  whom  he  had  cheated  while 
officiating &s  turnspit,  who  screamed,  44  Mr.  Balderstone  ! 
Mr.  Balderstone  ! than  the  castle’s  gane  out  like  an  auld 
wife’s  spunk  !” 

44  To  be  sure  it  is,  callant,”  said  the  butler  ; 44  do  ye 
think  the  castle  of  as  great  a lord  as  Lord  Ravenswood 
wad  continue  in  a bleeze,  and  him  standing  looking  on  wi’ 
his  ain  very  een  9 — It’s  aye  right,”  continued  Caleb, 
shaking  off  his  ragged  page,  and  closing  in  to  his  master, 
44  to  train  up  weans,  as  the  wise  man  says,  in  the  way 
they  should  go,  and  aboon  a’  to  teach  them  respect  to 
their  superiors.” 

44  But  all  this  while,  Caleb,  you  have  never  told  me 
what  became  of  the  arms  and  powder,”  said  Ravenswood. 

44  Why,  as  for  the  arms,”  said  Caleb,  44  it  was  just 
like  the  bairns’  rhyme — 

1 Some  gaed  east,  and  some  gaed  west, 

And  some  gaed  to  the  craw’s  nest 

And  for  the  pouther,  I e’en  changed  it,  as  occasion  serv- 
ed, with  the  skippers  o’  Dutch  luggers  and  French  vessels, 
for  gin  and  brandy,  and  it  served  the  house  mony  a year 
— a gude  swap  too,  between  what  cheereth  the  soul  of 
man  and  that  which  dingeth  it  clean  out  of  his  body  ; for- 
bye,  I keepit  a wheen  pounds  of  it  for  yoursell,  when  ye 
wanted  to  take  the  pleasure  o’  shooting — whiles,  in  these 
latter  days,  I wad  hardly  hae  kenn’d  else  whar  to  get  pou- 
ther for  your  pleasure.  And  now  that  your  anger  is  ower, 
sir,  wasna  that  weel  managed  o’  me,  and  arena  ye  far  bet- 
ter sorted  doun  yonder  than  ye  could  hae  been  in  your 
ain  auld  ruins  up  bye  yonder,  as  the  case  stands  wi’  us 
now  9 — the  mair’s  the  pity.” 


288 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ I believe  you  may  be  right,  Caleb  ; but,  before  burn- 
ing down  my  castle,  either  in  jest  or  in  earnest,”  said  Ra- 
venswood,  “ I think  I had  a right  to  be  in  the  secret.” 

“ Fie  for  shame,  your  honour  !”  replied  Caleb  ) “ it 
fits  an  auld  carle  like  me  weel  eneugh  to  tell  lees  for  the 
credit  of  the  family,  but  it  vvadna  beseem  the  like  o’  your 
honour’s  sell  ; besides,  young  folk  are  no  judicious — they 
canna  make  the  maist  of  a bit  figment.  Now  this  fire — 
for  a fire  it  sail  be,  if  I suld  burn  the  auld  stable  to  make 
it  mair  feasible — this  fire,  besides  that  it  will  be  an  excuse 
for  asking  ony  thing  we  want  through  the  country,  or  doun 
at  the  haven — this  fire  will  settle  tnony  things  on  an  hon- 
ourable footing  for  the  family’s  credit,  that  cost  me  telling 
twenty  daily  lees  to  a wheen  idle  chaps  and  queans,  and, 
what’s  waur,  without  gaining  credence.” 

“ That  was  hard  indeed,  Caleb  ; but  I do  not  see  how 
this  fire  should  help  your  veracity  or  your  credit.” 

“ There  it  is  now,”  said  Caleb  ; “ wasna  I saying  that 
young  folk  had  a green  judgment  9 — How  suld  it  help 
me,  quotha  G? — it  will  be  a creditable  apology  for  the  hon- 
our of  the  family  for  this  score  of  years  to  come,  if  it  is 
weel  guided.  Where’s  the  family  pictures  says  ae  med- 
dling body — the  great  fire  at  Wolfs  Crag,  answers  I. 
Where’s  the  family  plate  9 says  another— the  great  fire, 
says  I ; wha  was  to  think  of  plate  when  life  and  limb  were 
in  danger  9 — Where’s  the  wardrobe  and  the  linens  9 — 
where’s  the  tapestries  and  the  decorernents  — beds  of 
state,  twilts,  pands  and  testers,  napery  and  broidered 
wark  ? — The  fire — the  fire — the  fire.  Guide  the  fire 
weel,  and  it  will  serve  ye  for  a’  that  ye  suld  have  and  have 
not — and,  in  some  sort,  a gude  excuse  is  better  than  the 
things  themselves  ; for  they  maun  crack  and  wear  out, 
and  be  consumed  by  time,  whereas  a gude  offcome,  pru- 
dently and  creditably  handled,  may  serve  a nobleman  and 
his  family,  Lord  kens  how  lang  !” 

Ravenswood  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his  butler’s 
pertinacity  and  self-opinion,  to  dispute  the  point  with  him 
any  farther.  Leaving  Caleb,  therefore,  to  the  enjoyment 
of  his  own  successful  ingenuity,  he  returned  to  the  ham- 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


289 


let,  where  he  found  the  Marquis  and  the  good  women  of 
the  mansion  under  some  anxiety — the  former  on  account 
of  his  absence,  the  others  for  the  discredit  their  cookery 
might  sustain  by  the  delay  of  the  supper.  All  were  now 
at  ease,  and  heard  with  pleasure  that  the  fire  at  the  castle 
had  burned  out  of  itself,  without  reaching  the  vaults,  which 
was  the  only  information  that  Ravenswood  thought  it 
proper  to  give  in  public  concerning  the  event  of  his  but- 
ler’s stratagem. 

They  sat  down  to  an  excellent  supper.  No  invitation 
could  prevail  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Girder,  even  in  their  cvvn 
house,  to  sit  down  at  table  with  guests  of  such  high  qual- 
ity. They  remained  standing  in  the  apartment,  and  acted 
the  part  of  respectful  and  careful  attendants  on  the  com- 
pany. Such  were  the  manners  of  the  time.  The  elder 
dame,  confident  through  her  age  and  connection  with  the 
Ravenswood  family,  was  less  scrupulously  ceremonious. 
She  played  a mixed  part  betwixt  that  of  the  hostess  of  an 
inn,  and  the  mistress  of  a private  house,  who  receives 
guests  above  her  own  degree.  She  recommended,  and 
even  pressed  what  she  thought  best,  and  was  herself  easily 
entreated  to  take  a moderate  share  of  the  good  cheer,  in 
order  to  encourage  her  guests  by  her  own  example. 
Often  she  interrupted  herself,  to  express  her  regret  that 
“ my  Lord  did  not  eat — that  the  Master  was  pyking  a 
bare  bane — that,  to  be  sure,  there  was  naething  there. fit 
to  set  before  their  honours — that  Lord  Allan,  rest  his  saul, 
used  to  like  a pouthered  guse,  and  said  it  was  Latin  for  a 
tass  o’  brandy — that  the  brandy  came  frae  France  direct; 
for,  for  a’  the  English  laws  and  gaugers,  the  Wolfs-hope 
brigs  hadna  forgotten  the  gate  to  Dunkirk.” 

Here  the  cooper  admonished  his  mother-in-law  with 
his  elbow,  which  procured  him  the  following  special  notice 
in  the  progress  of  her  speech  : — 

“ Ye  needna  be  dunshin  that  gate,  Gilbert,”  continued 
the  old  lady  ; “ naebody  says  that  ye  ken  whar  the  brandy 
comes  frae  ; and  it  wadna  be  fitting  ye  should,  and  you 
the  Queen’s  cooper  ; and  what  signifies’t,”  continued  she, 
25  vol.  i. 


290 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


addressing  Lord  Ravenswood,  “ to  king,  queen,  or  keiser, 
whar  an  auld  wife  like  me  buys  her  pickle  sneeshin,  or 
her  drap  brandy-wine,  to  haud  her  heart  up  9” 

Having  thus  extricated  herself  from  her  supposed  false 
step,  Dame  Loup-the-dyke  proceeded,  during  the  rest  of 
the  evening,  to  supply,  with  great  animation,  and  very  little 
assistance  from  her  guests,  the  funds  necessary  for  the 
support  of  the  conversation,  until,  declining  any  farther 
circulation  of  their  glass,  her  guests  requested  her  per- 
mission to  retire  to  their  apartments. 

The  Marquis  occupied  the  chamber  of  dais,  which,  in 
every  house  above  the  rank  of  a mere  cottage,  was  kept 
sacred  for  such  high  occasions  as  the  present.  The  mod- 
ern finishing  with  plaister  was  then  unknown,  and  tapestry 
was  confined  to  the  houses  of  the  nobility  and  superior 
gentry.  The  cooper,  therefore,  who  was  a man  of  some 
vanity,  as  well  as  some  wealth,  had  imitated  the  fashion 
observed  by  the  inferior  land-holders  and  clergy,  who 
usually  garnished  their  state  apartments  with  hangings  of 
a sort  of  stamped  leather,  manufactured  in  the  Nether- 
lands, garnished  with  trees  and  animals  executed  in  cop- 
per foil,  and  with  many  a pithy  sentence  of  morality,  which, 
although  couched  in  Low  Dutch,  were  perhaps  as  much 
attended  to  in  practice  as  if  written  in  broad  Scotch.  The 
whole  had  somewhat  of  a gloomy  aspect  ; but,  the  fire, 
composed  of  old  pitch-barrel  staves,  blazed  merrily  up 
the  chimney  ; the  bed  was  decorated  with  linen  of  most 
fresh  and  dazzling  whiteness,  which  had  never  before  been 
used,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  never  been  used  at  all, 
but  for  this  high  occasion.  On  the  toilette  beside,  stood 
an  old-fashioned  mirror,  in  a filagree  frame,  part  of  the 
dispersed  finery  of  the  neighbouring  castle.  It  was  flank- 
ed by  a long-necked  bottle  of  Florence  wine,  by  which 
stood  a glass  nearly  as  tall,  resembling  in  shape  that  which 
Teniers  usually  places  in  the  hands  of  his  own  portrait, 
when  he  paints  himself  as  mingling  in  the  revels  of  a 
country  village.  To  counterbalance  those  foreign  senti- 
nels, there  mounted  guard  on  the  other  side  of  the  mirror 
two  stout  warders  of  Scottish  lineage  ; a jug,  namely,  of 


THE  BUIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


291 


double  ale,  which  held  a Scotch  pint,  and  a quegh  or 
bicker  of  ivory  and  ebony,  hooped  with  silver,  the  work 
of  Gilbert  Girder’s  own  bands,  and  the  pride  of  his  heart. 
Besides  these  preparations  against  thirst,  there  was  a 
goodly  diet-loaf,  or  sweet-cake  ; so  that,  with  such  aux- 
iliaries, the  apartment  seemed  victualled  against  a siege  of 
two  or  three  days. 

It  only  remains  to  say,  that  the  Marquis’s  valet  was  in 
attendance,  displaying  his  master’s  brocaded  night-gown, 
and  richly  embroidered  velvet  cap,  lined  and  faced  with 
Brussels  lace,  upon  a huge  leathern  easy-chair,  wheeled 
round  so  as  to  have  the  full  advantage  of  the  comfortable 
fire  which  we  have  already  mentioned.  We  therefore 
commit  that  eminent  person  to  his  night’s  repose,  trusting 
he  profited  by  the  ample  preparations  made  for  his  ac- 
commodation,— preparations  which  we  have  mentioned  in 
detail,  as  illustrative  of  ancient  Scottish  manners. 

It  is  not  necessary  we  should  be  equally  minute  in  de- 
scribing the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  Master  of  Ravens- 
wood,  which  was  that  usually  occupied  by  the  goodman 
and  goodwife  themselves.  It  was  comfortably  hung  with 
a sort  of  warm  coloured  worsted,  manufactured  in  Scot- 
land, approaching  in  texture  to  what  is  now  called  shaloon. 
A staring  picture  of  Gilbert  Girder  himself  ornamented 
this  dormitory,  painted  by  a starving  Frenchman,  who  had, 
God  knows  how  or  why,  strolled  over  from  Flushing  or 
Dunkirk  to  Wolf’s-hope  in  a smuggling  dogger.  The 
features  were,  indeed,  those  of  the  stubborn,  opinionative, 
yet  sensible  artizan,  but  Monsieur  had  contrived  to  throw 
a French  grace  into  the  look  and  manner,  so  utterly  in- 
consistent with  the  dogged  gravity  of  the  original,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  look  at  it  without  laughing.  Gilbert 
and  his  family,  however,  piqued  themselves  not  a little 
upon  this  picture,  and  were  proportionably  censured  by 
the  neighbourhood,  who  pronounced  that  the  cooper,  in 
sitting  for  the  same,  and  yet  more  in  presuming  to  hang  it 
up  in  his  bed-chamber,  had  exceeded  his  privilege  as  the 
richest  man  of  the  village  ; at  once  stept  beyond  the 
bounds  of  his  own  rank,  and  encroached  upon  those  of 


292 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


the  superior  orders  ; and,  in  fine,  had  been  guilty  of  a 
very  overweening  act  of  vanity  and  presumption.  Re- 
spect for  the  memory  of  my  deceased  friend,  Mr.  Richard 
Tinto,  has  obliged  me  to  treat  this  matter  at  some  length  ; 
but  I spare  the  reader  his  prolix,  though  curious  observa- 
tions, as  well  upon  the  character  of  the  French  school,  as 
upon  the  state  of  painting  in  Scotland,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century. 

The  other  preparations  of  the  Master’s  sleeping  apart- 
ment, were  similar  to  those  in  the  chamber  of  dais. 

At  the  usual  early  hour  of  that  period,  the  Marquis  of 
A and  his  kinsman  prepared  to  resume  their  jour- 

ney. This  could  not  be  done  without  an  ample  breakfast, 
in  which  cold  meat  and  hot  meat,  and  oatmeal  flummery, 
wine  and  spirits,  and  milk  varied  by  every  possible  mode 
of  preparation,  evinced  the  same  desire  to  do  honour  to 
their  guests,  which  had  been  shown  by  the  hospitable 
owners  of  the  mansion  upon  the  evening  before.  All  the 
bustle  of  preparation  for  departure  now  resounded  through 
Wolf’s-hope.  There  was  paying  of  bills  and  shaking  of 
hands,  and  saddling  of  horses,  and  harnessing  of  car- 
riages, and  distributing  of  drink-money.  The  Marquis 
left  a broad  piece  for  the  gratification  of  Gilbert  Girder’s 
household,  which  he,  the  said  Gilbert,  was  for  some  time 
disposed  to  convert  to  his  own  use  ; Dingwall  the  writer 
assuring  him  he  w^as  justified  in  so  doing,  seeing  he  was 
the  disburser  of  those  expenses  which  were  the  occasion 
of  the  gratification.  But,  notwithstanding  this  legal  au- 
thority, Gilbert  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  dim  the  splen- 
dour of  his  late  hospitality,  by  pocketting  anything  in  the 
nature  of  a gratuity.  He  only  assured  his  menials  he 
would  consider  them  as  a damned  ungrateful  pack,  if  they 
bought  a gill  of  brandy  elsewhere  than  out  of  his  own 
stores  ; and  as  the  drink-money  was  likely  to  go  to  its  le- 
gitimate use,  he  comforted  himself  that,  in  this  manner, 
the  Marquis’s  donative  would,  without  any  impeachment 
of  credit  and  character,  come  ultimately  into  his  own  ex- 
clusive possession. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  RAMMER  MOOR. 


293 


While  arrangements  were  making  for  departure,  Ra- 
venswood  made  blithe  the  heart  of  his  ancient  butler,  by- 
informing  him,  cautiously  however,  for  he  knew  Caleb’s 
warmth  of  imagination,  of  the  probable  change  which  was 
about  to  take  place  in  his  fortunes.  He  deposited  with 
Balderstone,  at  the  same  time,  the  greater  part  of  his 
slender  funds,  with  an  assurance  which  he  was  obliged  to 
reiterate  more  than  once,  that  he  himself  had  sufficient 
supplies  in  certain  prospect.  He  therefore  enjoined  Ca- 
leb, as  he  valued  his  favour,  to  desist  from  all  farther 
manoeuvres  against  the.  inhabitants  of  Wolf’s-hope,  their 
cellars,  poultry,  yards,  and  substance  whatsoever.  In  this 
prohibition,  the  old  domestic  acquiesced  more  readily  than 
his  master  expected. 

“ It  was  doubtless,”  he  said,  “ a shame,  a discredit, 
and  a sin,  to  harry  the  puir  creatures,  when  the  family 
were  in  circumstances  to  live  honourably  on  their  ain 
means  ; and  there  might  be  wisdom,”  he  said,  “ in  giving 
them  a whiles  breathing-time,  at  any  rate,  that  they  might 
be  the  more  readily  brought  forward  upon  his  honour’s 
future  occasions.” 

This  matter  being  settled,  and  having  taken  an  affec- 
tionate farewell  of  his  old  domestics,  the  Master  rejoined 
his  noble  relative,  who  was  now  ready  to  enter  his  car- 
riage. The  two  landladies,  old  and  young,  in  all  kindly 
greeting,  stood  simpering  at  the  door  of  their  house,  as 
the  coach  and  six,  followed  by  its  train  of  clattering  horse- 
men, thundered  out  of  the  village.  Gilbert  Girder  also 
stood  upon  his  threshold,  now  looking  at  his  honoured  right 
hand,'  which  had  been  so  lately  shaken  by  a marquis  and 
a lord,  and  now  giving  a glance  into  the  interior  of  his 
mansion,  which  manifested  all  the  disarray  of  the  late 
revel,  as  if  balancing  the  distinction  which  he  had  attained 
with  the  expenses  of  the  entertainment. 

At  length  he  opened  his  oracular  jaws.  “ Let  every 
man  and  woman  here  set  about  their  ain  business,  as  if 
there  was  n^e  sic  thing  as  marquis  or  master,  duke  or 
drake,  laird  or  lord,  in  this  world.  Let  the  house  be  redd 
25*  vol.  i. 


294 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


up,  the  broken  meat  set  bye,  and  if  there  is  ony  thing  to- 
tally uneatable,  let  it  be  gien  to  the  puir  folk  ; and  gude- 
mother  and  wife,  I hae  just  ae  thing  to  entreat  ye,  that  ye 
will  never  speak  to  me  a single  word,  good  or  bad,  anent 
a’  this  nonsense  wark,  but  keep  a5  your  cracks  about  it  to 
yoursells  and  your  kimmers,  for  my  head  is  well  nigh  dung 
donnart  wi’  it  already.” 

As  Gilbert’s  authority  was  tolerably  absolute,  all  depart- 
ed to  their  usual  occupations,  leaving  him  to  build  castles 
in  the  air,  if  he  had  a mind,  upon  the  court  favour  which 
he  had  acquired  by  the  expenditure  of  his  worldly  sub- 
stance. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Why,  now  I have  Dame  Fortune  by  the  forelock, 

And  if  she  ’scapes  my  grasp,  the  fault  is  mine  : 

He  that  hath  buffeted  with  stern  adversit}', 

Best  knows  to  shape  his  course  to  favouring  breezes. 

Old  Play. 

Our  travellers  reached  Edinburgh  without  any  farther 
adventure,  and  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  as  had  been 
previously  settled,  took  up  his  abode  with  his  noble  friend. 

In  the  meantime,  the  political  crisis  which  had  been  ex- 
pected, took  place,  and  the  Tory  party  obtained,  in  the 
Scottish  councils  of  Queen  Anne  a short-lived  ascenden- 
cy, of  which  it  is  not  our  business  to  trace  either  the  cause 
or  consequences.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  affected  the 
different  political  parties  according  to  the  nature  of  their 
principles.  In  England,  many  of  the  High  Church  party, 
with  Harley,  afterwards  Earl  of  Oxford,  at  their  head, 
affected  to  separate  their  principles  from  those  of  the  Jaco- 
bites, and,  on  that  account,  obtained  the  denomination  of 
Whimsicals.  The  Scottish  High  Church  party,  on  the 
contrary,  or,  as  they  termed  themselves,  the  Cavaliers, 
were  more  consistent,  if  not  so  prudent,  in  their  politics. 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


295 


and  viewed  all  the  changes  now  made,  as  preparatory  to 
calling  to  the  throne,  upon  the  Queen’s  demise,  her  broth- 
er, the  Chevalier  St.  George.  Those  who  had  suffered 
in  his  service,  now  entertained  the  most  unreasonable 
hopes,  not  only  of  indemnification,  but  of  vengeance  upon 
their  political  adversaries,  while  families  attached  to  the 
Whig  interest,  saw  nothing  before  them  but  a renewal  of 
the  hardships  they  had  undergone  during  the  reigns  of 
Charles  the  Second  and  his  brother,  and  a retaliation  of 
the  confiscation  which  had  been  inflicted  upon  the  Jaco- 
bites during  that  of  King  William. 

But  the  most  alarmed  at  the  change  of  system,  was  that 
prudential  set  of  persons,  some  of  whom  are  found  in  all 
governments,  but  who  abound  in  a provincial  administra- 
tion like  that  of  Scotland  during  the  period,  and  who  are 
what  Cromwell  called  waiters  upon  Providence,  or,  in 
other  words,  uniform  adherents  to  the  party  who  are  up- 
permost. Many  of  these  hastened  to  read  their  recanta- 
tion to  the  Marquis  of  A ; and  as  it  was  easily  seen 

that  he  took  a deep  interest  in  the  affairs  of  his  kinsman, 
the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  they  were  the  first  to  suggest 
measures  for  retrieving  at  least  a part  of  his  property,  and 
for  restoring  him  in  blood  against  his  father’s  attainder. 

Old  Lord  Turntippet  professed  to  be  one  of  the  most 
anxious  for  the  success  of  these  measures  ; “ for  it  griev- 
ed him  to  the  very  saul,”  he  said,  “ to  see  so  brave  a 
young  gentleman,  of  sic  auld  and  undoubted  nobility,  and, 
what  was  mair  than  a’  that,  a bluid  relation  of  the  Marquis 

of  A , the  man  whom,”  he  swore,  “ he  honoured  most 

upon  the  face  of  the  yearth,  brought  to  so  severe  a pass. 
For  his  ain  puir  peculiar,”  as  he  said,  “ and  to  contribute 
something  to  the  rehabitation  of  sae  auld  ane  house,”  the 
said  Turntippet  sent  in  three  family  pictures  lacking  the 
frames,  and  six  high-backed  chairs,  with  worked  Turkey 
cushions,  having  the  crest  of  Ravenswood  broidered  there- 
on, without  charging  a penny  either  of  the  principal  or  in- 
terest they  had  cost  him,  when  he  bought  them,  sixteen 
years  before,  at  a roup  of  the  furniture  of  Lord  Ravens- 
wood’s  lodgings  in  the  Canongate. 


296 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


Much  more  to  Lord  Turntippet’s  dismay  than  to  his 
surprise,  although  he  affected  to  feel  more  of  the  latter 
than  the  former,  the  Marquis  received  his  gift  very  drily, 
and  observed,  that  his  lordship’s  restitution,  if  he  expect- 
ed it  to  be  received  by  the  Master  of  Ravensvvood  and 
his  friends,  must  comprehend  a pretty  large  farm,  which, 
having  been  mortgaged  to  Turntippet  for  a very  inade- 
quate sum,  he  had  contrived,  during  the  confusion  of  the 
family  affairs,  and  by  means  well  understood  by  the  law-' 
yers  of  that  period,  to  acquire  to  himself  in  absolute 
property. 

The  old  time-serving  lord  winced  excessively  under  this 
requisition,  protesting  to  God,  that  he  saw  no  occasion  the 
lad  could  have  for  the  instant  possession  of  the  land,  see- 
ing he  would  doubtless  now  recover  the  bulk  of  his  estate 
from  Sir  William  Ashton,  to  which  he  was  ready  to  con- 
tribute by  every  means  in  his  power,  as  was  just  and  rea- 
sonable ; and  finally  declaring,  that  he  was  willing  to 
settle  the  land  on  the  young  gentleman,  after  his  own  nat- 
ural demise. 

But  all  these  excuses  availed  nothing,  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  disgorge  the  property,  on  receiving  back  the  sum 
for  which  it  had  been  mortgaged.  Having  no  other  means 
of  making  peace  with  the  higher  powers,  he  returned 
home  sorrowful  and  malcontent,  complaining  to  his  confi- 
dants, “ that  every  mutation  or  change  in  the  state  had 
hitherto  been  productive  of  some  sma’  advantage  to  him  in 
his  ain  quiet  affairs;  but  that  the  present  had  (pize  upon 
it !)  cost  him  one  of  the  best  pen-feathers  o’  his  wing.” 

Similar  measures  were  threatened  against  others,  who 
had  profited  by  the  wreck  of  the  fortune  of  Ravenswood  ; 
and  Sir  William  Ashton,  in  particular,  was  menaced  with 
a parliamentary  reversal  of  the  judicial  sentences  under 
which  he  held  the  Castle  and  Barony  of  Ravenswood. 
With  him,  however,  the  Master,  as  well  for  Lucy’s  sake 
as  on  account  of  the  hospitality  he  had  received  from  him, 
felt  himself  under  the  necessity  of  proceeding  with  great 
candour.  He  wrote  to  the  late  Lord  Keeper,  for  he  no 
longer  held  that  office,  stating  frankly  the  engagement 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


297 


which  existed  between  him  and  Miss  Ashton,  requesting 
his  permission  for  their  union,  and  assuring  him  of  his 
willingness  to  put  the  settlement  of  all  matters  between 
them  upon  such  a footing,  as  Sir  William  himself  should 
think  favourable. 

The  same  messenger  was  charged  with  a letter  to  Lady 
Ashton,  deprecating  any  cause  of  displeasure  which  the 
Master  might  unintentionally  have  given  her,  enlarging 
upon  his  attachment  to  Miss  Ashton,  and  the  length  to 
which  it  had  proceeded,  and  conjuring  the  lady,  as  a Dou- 
glas in  nature  as  well  as  in  name,  generously  to  forget 
ancient  prejudices  and  misunderstandings  ; and  to  believe 
that  the  family  had  acquired  a friend,  and  she  herself  a 
respectful  and  attached  humble  servant,  in  him  who  sub- 
scribed himself  Edgar,  Master  of  Ravenswood. 

A third  letter  Ravenswood  addressed  to  Lucy,  and  the 
messenger  was  instructed  to  find  some  secret  and  secure 
means  of  delivering  it  into  her  own  hands.  It  contained 
the  strongest  protestations  of  continued  affection,  and  dwelt 
upon  the  approaching  change  of  the  writer’s  fortunes  as 
chiefly  valuable,  by  tending  to  remove  the  impediments  to 
their  union.  He  related  the  steps  he  had  taken  to  over- 
come the  prejudices  of  her  parents,  and  especially  of  her 
mother,  and  expressed  his  hope  they  might  prove  effect- 
ual. If  not,  he  still  trusted  that  his  absence  from  Scot- 
land upon  an  important  and  honourable  mission  might  give 
time  for  prejudices  to  die  away  ; while  he  hoped  and  trust- 
ed Miss  Ashton’s  constancy,  on  which  he  had  the  most 
implicit  reliance,  would  baffle  any  effort  that  might  be  used 
to  divert  her  attachment.  Much  more  there  was,  which, 
however  interesting  to  the  lovers  themselves,  would  afford 
the  reader  neither  interest  nor  information.  To  each  of 
these  three  letters  the  Master  of  Ravenswood  received  an 
answer,  but  by  different  means  of  conveyance,  and  cer- 
tainly couched  in  very  different  styles. 

Lady  Ashton  answered  his  letter  by  his  own  messen- 
ger, who  was  not  allowed  to  remain  at  Ravenswood  a mo- 
ment longer  than  she  was  engaged  in  penning  these  lines. 
“ For  the  hand  of  Mr.  Ravenswood  of  Wolfs  Crag,  these  • 


298 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Sir,  unknown, 

“ I have  received  a letter,  signed  Edgar,  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  concerning  the  writer  whereof  I am  uncer- 
tain, seeing  that  the  honours  of  such  a family  were  forfeit- 
ed for  high  treason  in  the  person  of  Allan,  late  Lord  Ra- 
venswood. Sir,  if  you  shall  happen  to  be  the  person  so 
subscribing  yourself,  you  will  please  to  know  that  I claim 
the  full  interest  of  a parent  in  Miss  Lucy  Ashton,  which 
I have  disposed  of  irrevocably  in  behalf  of  a worthy  per- 
son. And,  sir,  were  this  otherwise,  I would  not  Jisten  to  a 
proposal  from  you,  or  any  of  your  house,  seeing  their  hand 
has  been  uniformly  held  up  against  the  freedom  of  the 
subject,  and  the  immunities  of  God’s  kirk.  Sir,  it  is  not 
a flightering  blink  of  prosperity  which  can  change  my  con- 
stant opinion  in  this  regard,  seeing  it  has  been  my  lot  be- 
fore now,  like  holy  David,  to  see  the  wicked  great  in 
power,  and  flourishing  like  a green  bay  tree  ; nevertheless 
I passed,  and  they  were  not,  and  the  place  thereof  knew 
them  no  more.  Wishing  you  to  lay  these  things  to  your 
heart  for  your  own  sake,  so  far  as  they  may  concern  you, 
I pray  you  to  take  no  farther  notice  of  her,  who  desires  to 
remain  your  unknown  servant, 

“ Margaret  Douglas, 

“ otherwise  Ashton.” 

About  two  days  after  he  had  received  this  very  unsatis- 
factory epistle,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  while  walking 
up  the  High  Street  of  Edinburgh,  was  jostled  by  a person, 
in  whom,  as  the  man  pulled  off  his  hat  to  make  an  apol- 
ogy, he  recognized  Lockbard,  the  confidential  domestic 
of  Sir  William  Ashton.  The  man  bowed,  slipt  a letter 
into  his  hand,  and  disappeared.  The  packet  contained 
four  close-written  folios,  from  which,  however,  as  is  some- 
times incident  to  the  compositions  of  great  lawyers,  little 
could  be  extracted,  excepting  that  the  writer  felt  himself 
in  a very  puzzling  predicament. 

Sir  William  spoke  at  length  of  his  high  value  and  regard 
for  his  dear  young  friend,  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  and 
of  his  very  extreme  high  value  and  regard  of  the  Marquis 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOH. 


299 


of  A , his  very  dear  old  friend  ; — lie  trusted  that  any 

measures  that  they  might  adopt,  in  which  he  was  concern- 
ed, would  be  carried  on  with  due  regard  to  the  sanctity 
of  decreets,  and  judgments  obtained  in  foro  contentioso  ; 
protesting  before  men  and  angels,  that  if  the  law  of  Scot- 
land, as  declared  in  her  established  courts,  were  to  under- 
go a reversal  in  any  popular  assembly,  the  evils  which 
would  thence  arise  to  the  public  would  inflict  a greater 
wound  upon  bis  heart,  than  any  loss  be  might  himself  sus- 
tain by  such  irregular  proceedings.  He  flourished  much 
on  generosity  and  forgiveness  of  mutual  injuries,  and  hint- 
ed at  the  mutability  of  human  affairs,  always  favourite 
topics  with  the  weaker  party  in  politics.  He  pathetically 
lamented,  and  gently  censured,  the  haste  which  had  been 
used  in  depriving  him  of  his  situation  of  Lord  Keeper, 
which  his  experience  had  enabled  him  to  fill  with  some 
advantage  to  the  public,  without  so  much  as  giving  him  an 
opportunity  of  explaining  how  far  his  own  views  of  gen- 
eral politics  might  essentially  differ  from  those  now  in 

power.  He  was  convinced  the  Marquis  of  A had  as 

sincere  intentions  towards  the  public,  as  himself  or  any 
man ; and  if,  upon  a conference,  they  could  have  agreed 
upon  the  measures  by  which  it  was  to  be  pursued,  his  ex- 
perience and  his  interest  should  have  gone' to  support  the 
present  administration.  Upon  the  engagement  betwixt 
Ravenswood  and  his  daughter,  he  spoke  in  a dry  and  con- 
fused manner.  He  regretted  so  premature  a step  as  the 
engagement  of  the  young  people  should  have  been  taken, 
and  conjured  the  Master  to  remember  he  had  never  given 
any  encouragement  thereunto  ; and  observed,  that,  as  a 
transaction  inter  minor es,  and  without  concurrence  of  his 
daughter’s  natural  curators,  the  engagement  was  inept, 
and  void  in  law7.  This  precipitate  measure,  he  added, 
had  produced  a very  bad  effect  upon  Lady  Ashton’s  mind, 
which  it  was  impossible  at  present  to  remove.  Her  son, 
Colonel  Douglas  Ashton,  had  embraced  her  prejudices  in 
the  fullest  extent,  and  it  was  impossible  for  Sir  William  to 
adopt  a course  disagreeable  to  them,  without  a fatal  and 
irreconcilable  breach  in  his  family  ; which  was  not  at 


300 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


present  to  be  thought  of.  Time,  the  great  physician,  he 
hoped  would  mend  all. 

In  a postscript,  Sir  William  said  something  more  explic- 
itly, that  rather  than  the  law  of  Scotland  should  sustain  a 
severe  wound  through  his  sides,  by  a parliamentary  rever- 
sal of  the  judgment  of  her  supreme  courts,  in  the  case  of 
the  Barony  of  Ravenswood,  he  hifnself  would  extraju- 
dicialiy  consent  to  considerable  sacrifices. 

From  Lucy  Ashton,  by  some  unknown  conveyance,  the 
Master  received  the  following  lines  : — “ I received  your’s, 
but  it  was  at  the  utmost  risk  ; do  not  attempt  to  write 
again  till  better  times.  1 am  sore  beset,  but  1 will  be  true 
to  my  word,  while  the  exercise  of  my  reason  is  vouchsaf- 
ed to  me.  That  you  are  happy  and  prosperous  is  some 
consolation,  and  my  situation  requires  it  all.”  The  note 
was  signed  L.  A. 

This  letter  filled  Ravenswood  with  the  most  lively  alarm. 
He  made  many  attempts,  notwithstanding  her  prohibition, 
to  convey  letters  to  Miss  Ashton,  and  even  to  obtain  an 
interview  ; but  his  attempts  were  frustrated,  and  he  had 
only  the  mortification  to  learn  that  anxious  and  effectual 
precautions  had  been  taken  to  prevent  the  possibility  of 
their  correspondence.  The  Master  was  more  distressed 
by  these  circufnstances,  as  it  became  impossible  to  delay 
his  departure  from  Scotland,  upon  the  important  mission 
which  had  been  confided  to  him.  Before  his  departure, 
he  put  Sir  William  Ashton’s  letter  into  the  hands  of  the 

Marquis  of  A , who  observed  with  a smile,  that  Sir 

William’s  day  of  grace  was  past,  and  that  he  had  now  to 
learn  which  side  of  the  hedge  the  sun  had  got  to.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Ravenswood  extorted  from 
the  Marquis  a promise,  that  he  would  compromise  the 
proceedings  in  parliament,  providing  Sir  William  should 
be  disposed  to  acquiesce  in  a union  between  him  and 
Lucy  Ashton. 

“ I would  hardly,”  said  the  Marquis,  “ consent  to  your 
throwing  away  your  birth-right  in  this  manner,  were  I not 
perfectly  confident  that  Lady  Ashton,  or  Lady  Douglas, 
or  whatever  she  calls  herself,  will,  as  Scotchmen  say, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR, 


301 


keep  her  threep,  and  that  her  husband  dares  not  contra- 
dict her.” 

“ But  yet,”  said  the  Master,  “ I trust  your  Grace  will 
consider  my  engagement  as  sacred.” 

“ Believe  my  word  of  honour,”  said  the  Marquis,  “ I 
would  be  a friend  even  to  your  follies  ; and  having  thus 
told  you  my  opinion,  1 will  endeavour,  as  occasion  offers, 
to  serve  you  according  to  your  own.” 

The  Master  of  Ravenswood  could  but  thank  his  gen- 
erous kinsman  and  patron,  and  leave  him  full  power  to 
act  in  all  his  affairs.  He  departed  from  Scotland  upon 
his  mission,  which,  it  was  supposed,  might  detain  him  up- 
on the  continent  for  some  months. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  woo’d  ? — 

W as  ever  woman  in  this  humour  won  ? — 

I’ll  Have  her. 

Richard  the  Third. 

Twelve  months  had  past  away  since  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood’s  departure  for  the  continent ; and  although 
his  return  to  Scotland  had  been  expected  in  a much  shorter 
space,  yet  the  affairs  of  his  mission,  or,  according  to  a 
prevailing  report,  others  of  a nature  personal  to  himself, 
still  detained  him  abroad.  In  the  meantime,  the  altered 
state  of  affairs  in  Sir  William  Ashton’s  family,  may  be 
gathered  from  the  following  conversation  which  took  place 
betwixt  Bucklaw  and  his  confidential  bottle-companion 
and  dependant,  the  noted  Captain  Craigengelt. 

They  were  seated  on  either  side  of  the  huge  sepulchral- 
looking  freestone  chimney  in  the  low  hall  at  Girnington. 
A wood-fire  blazed  merrily  in  the  grate  ; a round  oaken 
table,  placed  between  them,  supported  a stoup  of  excel- 
26  vol.  i. 


302 


TALES  GF  MY  LANDLORD. 


lent  claret,  two  rummer  glasses,  and  other  good  cheer  ; 
and  yet,  with  all  these  appliances  and  means  to  boot,  the 
countenance  of  the  patron  was  dubious,  doubtful,  and  un- 
satisfied, while  the  invention  of  his  dependant  was  taxed 
to  the  utmost,  to  parry  what  he  most  dreaded,  a fit,  as  he 
called  it,  of  the  sullens,  on  the  part  of  his  protector.  After 
along  pause,  only  interrupted  by  the  devil’s  tattoo,  which 
Bucklaw  kept  beating  against  the  hearth  with  the  toe  oi 
his  boot,  Craigengelt  at  last  ventured  to  break  silence. 
“ May  I be  double  distanced,”  said  he,  “ if  ever  I saw  a 
man  in  my  life  have  less  the  air  of  a bridegroom  ! Cut  me 
out  of  feather,  if  you  have  not  more  the  look  of  a man 
condemned  to  be  hanged.” 

“ My  kind  thanks  for  the  compliment,”  replied  Buck- 
law  ; “ but  I suppose  you  think  upon  the  predicament  in 
which  you  yourself  are  most  likely  to  be  placed  ; — and 
pray,  Captain  Craigengelt,  if  it  please  your  worship,  why 
should  I look  merry,  when  I’m  sad,  and  devilish  sad  too 
“ And  that’s  what  vexes  me,”  said  Craigengelt.  “ Here 
is  this  match,  the  best  in  the  whole  country,  and  which 
you  were  so  anxious  about,  is  on  the  point  of  being  conclud- 
ed, and  you  are  as  sulky  as  a bear  that  has  lost  its  whelps.” 
“ I do  not  know7,”  answered  the  laird,  doggedly,  “ wheth- 
er I should  conclude  it  or  not,  if  it  was  not  that  I am  too 
far  forwards  to  leap  back.” 

“ Leap  back  !”  exclaimed  Craigengelt,  with  a well- 
assumed  air  of  astonishment,  “ that  would  be  playing  the 
back-game  w7ith  a witness  ! Leap  back  ! Why,  is  not  the 
girl’s  fortune” 

“ The  young  lady’s,  if  you  please,”  said  Hayston,  in- 
terrupting him. 

fcfi  Well,  well,  no  disrespect  meant — Will  Miss  Ashton’s 
tocher  not  weigh  against  any  in  Lothian  ?” 

“ Granted,”  answered  Bucklaw  ; “ but  I care  not  a 
penny  for  her  tocher,  1 have  enough  of  my  own.” 

6C  And  the  mother,  that  loves  you  like  her  own  child  9” 
“ Better  than  some  of  her  children,  I believe,”  said 
Bucklaw,  “ or  there  would  be  little  love  wared  on  the 
matter.” 


4 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR.  303 

“ And  Colonel  Sholto  Douglas  Ashton,  who  desires  the 
match  above  all  earthly  things  9” 

“ Because,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ he  expects  to  carry  the 

county  of through  my  interest.” 

“ And  the  father,  who  is  as  keen  to  see  the  match  con- 
cluded, as  ever  I have  been  to  win  a main  9” 

“ Ay,”  said  Bucklaw,  in  the  same  disparaging  manner, 
“ it  lies  with  Sir  William’s  policy  to  secure  the  next  best 
match,  since  he  cannot  barter  his  child  to  save  the  great 
Ravenswood  estate,  which  Parliament  are  about  to  wrench 
out  of  his  clutches.” 

“ What  say  you  to  the  young  lady  herself  9”  said  Craig- 
engelt  ; “ the  finest  young  woman  in  all  Scotland — one 
that  you  used  to  be  so  fond  of  when  she  was  cross,  and 
now  she  consents  to  have  you,  and  gives  up  her  engage- 
ment with  Ravenswood,  you  are  for  jibbing — I must  say, 
the  devil’s  in  ye,  when  ye  neither  know  what  you  would 
have,  nor  what  you  would  want. 

“ I’ll  tell  you  my  meaning  in  a word,”  answered  Buck- 
law,  getting  up  and  walking  through  the  room  ; “ I want 
to  know  what  the  devil  is  the  cause  of  Miss  Ashton’s 
changing  her  mind  so  suddenly.” 

“ And  what  need  you  care,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ since 
the  change  is  in  your  favour  9” 

“ I’ll  tell  you  what  it  is,”  returned  his  patron,  Cc  I never 
knew  much  of  that  sort  of  fine  ladies,  and  I believe  they 
may  be  as  capricious  as  the  devil ; but  there  is  something 
in  Miss  Ashton’s  change,  a devilish  deal  too  sudden,  and 
too  serious  for  a mere  disk  of  her  own.  I’ll  be  bound 
Lady  Ashton  understands  every  machine  for  breaking  in 
the  human  mind,  and  there  are  as  many  as  there  are  can- 
non-bits, martingales,  and  cavessons  for  young  colts.” 

“ And  if  that  were  not  the  case,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ how 
the  devil  should  we  ever  get  them  into  training  at  all  9” 
“ And  that’s  true  too,”  said  Bucklaw,  suspending  his 
march  through  the  dining-room,  and  leaning  upon  the  back 
of  a chair. — “ And  besides,  here’s  Ravenswood  in  the  way 
still  ; do  you  think  he’ll  give  up  Lucy’s  engagement  9” 


304 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD . 


“ To  be  sure  he  will,”  answered  Craigengelt ; “ what 
good  can  it  do  him  to  refuse,  since  he  wishes  to  marry 
another  woman,  and  she  another  man  V9 

“ And  you  believe  seriously,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ that  he 
is  going  to  marry  the  foreign  lady  we  heard  of  V9 

“ You  heard  yourself,”  answered  Craigengelt,  “ what 
Captain  Westenho  said  about  it,  and  the  great  preparation 
made  for  their  blithesome  bridal.” 

“ Captain  Westenho,”  replied  Bucklaw,  “ has  rather 
too  much  of  your  own  cast  about  him,  Craigy,  to  make 
what  Sir  William  would  call  a c famous  witness.’  He 
drinks  deep,  plays  deep,  swears  deep,  and  I suspect  can 
lie  and  cheat  a little  into  the  bargain.  Useful  qualities, 
Craigy,  if  kept  in  their  proper  sphere,  but  which  have  a 
little  too  much  of  the  freebooter  to  make  a figure  in  a 
court  of  evidence.” 

“ Well  then,”  said  Craigengelt,  “ will  you  believe  Col- 
onel Douglas  Ashton,  who  heard  the  Marquis  of  A 

say  in  a public  circle,  but  not  aware  that  he  was  within 
ear-shot,  that  his  kinsman  had  made  a better  arrangement 
for  himself,  than  to  give  his  father’s  land  for  the  pale-cheek- 
ed daughter  of  a broken-down  fanatic  \ and  that  Bucklaw 
was  welcome  to  the  wearing  of  Ravenswood’s  shaughled 
shoes.” 

“ Did  he  say  so,  by  heavens  !”  cried  Bucklaw,  break- 
ing out  into  one  of  those  uncontrollable  fits  of  passion,  to 
which  he  was  constitutionally  subject. — “ If  I had  heard 
him,  I would  have  tore  the  tongue  out  of  his  throat  before 
all  his  peats  and  minions,  and  Highland  bullies  into  the  bar- 
gain. Why  did  not  Ashton  run  him  through  the  body  9” 
“ Capote  me  if  I know,”  said  the  Captain.  “ He  de- 
served it,  sure  enough  ; but  he  is  an  old  man,  and  a min- 
ister of  state,  and  there  would  be  more  risk  than  credit  in 
meddling  with  him.  . You  had  more  need  to  think  of  mak- 
ing up  to  Miss  Lucy  Ashton  the  disgrace  that’s  like  to  fall 
upon  her,  than  of  interfering  with  a man  too  old  to  fight, 
and  on  too  high  a stool  for  you,  hand  to  reach  him.” 

“ It  shall  reach  him,  though,  om  day,”  said  Bucklaw, 
“ and  his  kinsman  Ravenswood  to  bo:  >t.  In  the  meantime 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


305 


HI  take  care  Miss  Ashton  receives  no  discredit  for  the 
slight  they  have  put  upon  her.  It’s  an  awkward  job,  how7- 
ever,  and  I wish  it  was  ended  ; I scarce  know  how  to  talk 
to  her, — but  fill  a bumper,  Craigy,  and  we’ll  drink  her 
health.  It  grows  late,  and  a night-cowl  of  good  claret  is 
worth  all  the  considering  caps  in  Europe.” 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

It  was  the  copy  of  our  conference, 

In  bed  she  slept  not,  for  my  urging  it  ; 

At  board  she  fed  not,  for  my  urging  it  ; 

Alone,  it  was  the  subject  of  my  theme  ; 

In  company  I often  glanced  at  it. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

The  next  morning  saw  Bucklaw,  and  his  faithful  Acha- 
tes, Craigengelt,  at  Ravenswood  Castle.  They  were 
most  courteously  received  by  the  Knight  and  his  lady,  as 
well  as  by  their  son  and  heir,  Colonel  Ashton.  After  a 
good  deal  of  stammering  and  blushing — for  Bucklaw, 
notwithstanding  his  audacity  in  other  matters,  had  all  the 
sheepish  bashfulness  common  to  those  who  have  lived  little 
in  respectable  society, — he  contrived  at  length  to  explain 
his  wrish  to  be  admitted  to  a conference  with  Miss  Ashton, 
upon  the  subject  of  their  approaching  union.  Sir  William 
and  his  son  looked  at  Lady  Ashton,  who  replied  with  the 
greatest  composure,  “ that  Lucy  would*  wait  upon  Mr. 
Hayston  directly.  I hope,”  she  added  with  a smile,  “ that 
as  Lucy  is  very  young,  and  has  been  lately  trepanned  in- 
to an  engagement,  of  which  she  is  nq^v  heartily  ashamed, 
our  dear  Bucklaw  will  excuse  her  wish,  that  I should  be 
present  at  their  interview.” 

“ In  truth,  my  dear  lady,”  said  Bucklaw,  “ it  is  the 
very  thing  that  I would  have  desired  on  my  own  account ; 

26*  voL.  i. 


306 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


for  I have  been  so  little  accustomed  to  what  is  called 
gallantry,  that  I shall  certainly  fall  into  some  cursed  mis- 
take, unless  I have  the  advantage  of  your  ladyship  as  an 
interpreter.” 

It  was  thus  that  Bucklaw,  in  the  perturbation  of  his  em- 
barrassment upon  this  critical  occasion,  forgot  the  just  ap- 
prehensions he  had  entertained  of  Lady  Ashton’s  over- 
bearing ascendency  over  her  daughter’s  mind,  and  lost  an 
opportunity  of  ascertaining,  by  his  own  investigation,  the 
real  state  of  Lucy’s  feelings. 

The  other  gentlemen  left  the  room,  and  in  a short  time 
Lady  Ashton,  followed  by  her  daughter,  entered  the  apart- 
ment. She  appeared,  as  he  had  seen  her  on  former  oc- 
casions, rather  composed  than  agitated  ; but  a nicer  judge 
than  he  could  scarce  have  determined,  whether  her  calm- 
ness was  that  of  despair,  or  of  indifference.  Bucklaw 
was  too  much  agitated  by  his  own  feelings  minutely  to 
scrutinize  those  of  the  lady.  He  stammered  out  an  un- 
connected address,  confounding  together  the  two  or  three 
topics  to  which  it  related,  and  stopt  short  before  he  brought 
it  to  any  regular  conclusion.  Miss  Ashton  listened,  or 
looked  as  if  she  listened,  but  returned  not  a single  word 
in  answer,  continuing  to  fix  her  eyes  on  a small  piece  of 
embroidery,  on  which,  as  if  by  instinct  or  habit,  her  fin- 
gers were  busily  employed.  Lady  Ashton  sat  at  some 
distance,  almost  screened  from  notice  by  the  deep  embra- 
sure of  the  window  in  which  she  had  placed  her  chair. 
From  this  she  whispered,  in  a tone  of  voice,  which,  though 
soft  and  sweet,  had  something  in  it  of  admonition,  if  not 
command, — “ Lucy,  my  dear,  remember — have  you 
heard  what  Bucklaw  has  been  saying  Vy 

The  idea  of  her  mother’s  presence  seemed  to  have 
slipped  from  the  unhappy  girl’s  recollection.  She  start- 
ed, dropped  her  needle,  and  repeated  hastily,  and  almost 
in  the  same  breath,  the  contradictory  answers,  “ Yes, 
madam — no,  my  lady — I beg  pardon,  I did  not  hear.” 

“ You  need  not  blush,  my  love,  and  still  less  need  you 
look  so  pale  and  frightened, ’v  said  Lady  Ashton,  coming 
forward  ; “ we  know  that  maidens’  ears  must  be  slow  in 


THE  BRIDE  OF  LAMMERMOOR. 


307 


receiving  a gentleman’s  language  ; but  you  must  remem- 
ber Mr.Hayston  speaks  on  a subject  on  which  you  have 
long  since  agreed  to  give  him  a favourable  hearing. 
You  know  how  much  your  father  and  I have  our  hearts 
set  upon  an  event  so  extremely  desirable.” 

In  Lady  Ashton’s  voice,  a tone  of  impressive,  and  even 
stern  innuendo,  was  sedulously  and  skilfully  concealed, 
under  an  appearance  of  the  most  affectionate  maternal 
tenderness.  The  manner  was  for  Bucklaw,  who  was 
easily  enough  imposed  upon  ) the  matter  of  the  exhorta- 
tion was  for  the  terrified  Lucy,  who  well  knew  how  to 
interpret  her  mother’s  hints,  however  skilfully  their  real 
purport  might  be  veiled  from  general  observation. 

Miss  Ashton  sat  upright  in  her  chair,  cast  round  her  a 
glance,  in  which  fear  was  mingled  with  a still  wilder  ex- 
pression, but  remained  perfectly  silent.  Bucklaw,  who 
had  in  the  mean  time  paced  the  room  to  and  fro,  until  he 
had  recovered  his  composure,  now  stopped  within  two 
or  three  yards  of  her  chair,  and  broke  out  as  follows: — 
“ I believe  1 have  been  a d — d fool,  Miss  Ashton  ; I have 
tried  to  speak  to  you,  as  people  tell  me  young  ladies  like 
to  be  talked  to,  and  I don’t  think  you  comprehend  what 
I have  been  saying ; and  no  wonder,  for  d — n me  if  I 
understand  it  myself ! But,  however,  once  for  all,  and  in 
broad  Scotch,  your  father  and  mother  like  what  is  pro- 
posed, and  if  you  can  take  a plain  young  fellow  for  your 
husband,  who  will  never  cross  you  in  anything  you  have 
a mind  to,  I will  place  you  at  the  head  of  the  best  estab- 
lishment in  the  three  Lothians.  You  shall  have  Lady 
Girnington’s  lodging  in  the  Canongate  of  Edinburgh — 
go  where  you  please — do  what  you  please — and  see  what 
you  please — and  that’s  fair.  Only  I must  have  a corner 
at  the  board  end  for  a worthless  old  play-fellow  of  mine, 
whose  company  I would  rather  want  than  have,  if  it  were 
not  that  the  d — d fellow  has  persuaded  me  that  I can’t 
do  without  him ; and  so  I hope  you  won’t  except  against 
Craigy,  although  it  might  be  easy  to  find  much  better 
company.” 


308 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Now,  out  upon  you,  Bucklaw,”  said  Lady  Ashton, 
again  interposing, — “ how  can  you  think  Lucy  can  have 
any  objection  to  that  blunt,  honest,  good-natured  creature, 
Captain  Craigengelt  ?” 

“ Why,  madam,”  replied  Bucklaw,  “ as  to  Craigy’s 
sincerity,  honesty,  and  good-nature,  they  are,  I believe, 
pretty  much  upon  a par — but  that’s  neither  here  nor  there 
— the  fellow  knows  my  ways,  and  has  got  useful  to  me, 
and  I cannot  well  do  without  him,  as  1 said  before.  But 
all  this  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  ; for,  since  I have  mus- 
tered up  courage  to  make  a plain  proposal,  1 would  fain 
hear  Miss  Ashton,  from  her  own  lips,  give  me  a plain 
answer.” 

“ My  dear  Bucklaw,”  said  Lady  Ashton,  “ let  me  spare 
Lucy’s  bashfulness.  I tell  you,  in  her  presence,  that  she 
has  already  consented  to  be  guided  by  her  father  and  me 
in  this  matter.— Lucy,  my  love,”  she  added,  with  that 
singular  combination  of  suavity  of  tone  and  pointed  en- 
ergy,  which  we  have  already  noticed — “ Lucy,  my  dear- 
est love  ! speak  for  yourself,  is  it  not  as  I say  V9 

Her  victim  answered  in  a tremulous  and  hollow  voice 
— “ I have  promised  to  obey  you, — but  upon  one  con- 
dition.” 

“ She  means,”  said  Lady  Ashton,  turning  to  Bucklaw, 
u she  expects  an  answer  to  the  demand  which  she  has 
made  upon  the  man  at  Vienna,  or  Ratisbon,  or  Paris, — 
or  where  is  he — the  restitution  of  the  engagement  in 
which  he  had  the  art  to  involve  her.  You  will  not,  I am 
sure,  my  dear  friend,  think  it  is  wrong  that  she  should 
feel  much  delicacy  upon  this  head  ; indeed,  it  concerns 
us  all.” 

“ Perfectly  right — quite  fair,”  said  Bucklaw,  half  hum- 
ming. half  speaking  the  end  of  the  old  song — 

* It  is  best  to  be  off  wi7  the  old  love, 

Before  you  be  on  wi7  the  new.7 

“ But  I thought,”  said  he,  pausing,  “ you  might  have  had 
an  answer  six  times  told  from  Ravenswood.  D — n me, 


THE  BRIDE  OF  XAMMERMOOR. 


309 


if  I have  not  a mind  to  go  and  fetch  one  myself,  if  Miss 
Ashton  will  honour  me  with  the  commission.” 

44  By  no  means,”  said  Lady  Ashton,  44  we  have  had 
the  utmost  difficulty  of  preventing  Douglas,  (for  whom  it 
would  be  more  proper,)  from  taking  so  rash  a step  ; and 
do  you  think  we  could  permit  you,  my  good  friend,  almost 
equally  dear  to  us,  to  go  to  a desperate  man  upon  an  er- 
rand so  desperate  9”  In  fact,  all  the  friends  of  the  family 
are  of  opinion,  and  my  dear  Lucy  herself  ought  so  to  think, 
that  as  this  unworthy  person  has  returned  no  answer  to 
her  letter,  silence  must  on  this,  as  in  other  cases,  be  held 
to  give  consent,  and  a contract  must  be  supposed  to  be 
given  up,  when  the  party  waives  insisting  upon  it.  Sir 
William,  who  should  best  know,  is  clear  upon  this  subject ; 

and  therefore,  my  dear  Lucy” 

“ Madam,”  said  Lucy,  with  unwonted  energy,  44  urge 
me  no  farther — if  this  unhappy  engagement  be  restored, 
I have  already  said  you  shall  dispose  of  me  as  you  will — - 
till  then  I should  commit  a heavy  sin  in  the  sight  of  God 
and  man,  in  doing  what  you  require.” 

44  But,  my  love  if  this  man  remains  obstinately  silent” — 
44  He  will  not  be  silent,”  answered  Lucy  ; 44  it  is  six 
weeks  since  I sent  him  a double  of  my  former  letter  by 
a sure  hand.” 

44  You  have  not — you  could  not — you  durst  not,”  said 
Lady  Ashton,  with  violence  inconsistent  with  the  tone 
she  had  intended  to  assume  ; but  instantly  correcting  her- 
self, 44  my  dearest  Lucy,”  said  she,  in  her  sweetest  tone  of 
expostulation,  44  how  could  you  think  of  such  a thing  9” 
64  No  matter,”  said  Bucklaw  ; 44 1 respect  Miss  Ashton 
for  her  sentiments,  and  I only  wish  I had  been  her  mes- 
senger myself.” 

44  And  pray,  how  long,  Miss  Ashton,”  said  her  mother 
ironically,  44  are  we  to  wait  the  return  of  your  Pacolet — - 
your  fairy  messenger — since  our  humble  couriers  of  flesh 
and  blood  could  not  be  trusted  in  this  matter  <?” 

44  I have  numbered  weeks,  days,  hours,  and  minutes,” 
said  Miss  Ashton  ; 44  within  another  week  I shall  have  an 
answer,  unless  he  is  dead.  Till  that  time,  sir,”  she  said, 


310 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD. 


addressing  Bucklaw,  “ let  me  be  thus  far  beholden  to 
you,  that  you  will  beg  my  mother  to  forbear  me  upon 
this  subject.” 

“ I will  make  it  my  particular  entreaty  to  Lady  Ash- 
ton,” said  Bucklaw  ; “ by  my  honour,  madam,  I respect 
your  feelings ; and  although  the  prosecution  of  this  affair 
be  rendered  dearer  to  me  than  ever,  yet,  as  I am  a gen- 
tleman, I would  renounce  it,  were  it  so  urged  as  to  give 
you  a moment’s  pain.” 

“ Mr.  Hayston,  I think,  cannot  apprehend  that,”  said 
Lady  Ashton,  looking  pale  with  anger,  “ when  the  daugh- 
ter’s happiness  lies  in  the  bosom  of  the  mother.  Let  me 
ask  you,  Miss  Ashton,  in  what  terms  your  last  letter  was 
couched  9” 

“ Exactly  in  the  same,  madam,”  answered  Lucy, 
“ which  you  dictated  on  a former  occasion.” 

“ When  eight  days  have  elapsed,  then,”  said  her  moth- 
er, resuming  her  tone  of  tenderness,  “ we  shall  hope,  my 
dearest  love,  that  you  will  end  this  suspense.” 

“ Miss  Ashton  must  not  be  hurried,  madam,”  said 
Bucklaw,  whose  bluntness  of  feeling  did  not  by  any  means 
arise  from  want  of  good-nature — “ messengers  may  be 
stopped  or  delayed.  I have  known  a day’s  journey  broke 
by  the  casting  off  a fore-shoe — Stay,  let  me  see  my  cal- 
endar— the  20th  day  from  this  is  St.  Jude’s,  and  the  day 
before  I must  be  at  Caverton  Edge  to  see  the  match  be- 
tween the  Laird  of  Kittlegirth’s  black  mare,  and  Johnston 
the  meal-monger’s  four-year-old  colt ; but  I can  ride  all 
night,  or  Craigy  can  bring  me  word  how  the  match  goes 
— and  I hope,  in  the  meantime,  as  I shall  not  myself 
distress  Miss  Ashton  with  any  further  importunity,  that 
your  ladyship  yourself,  and  Sir  William,  and  Colonel 
Douglas,  will  have  the  goodness  to  allow  her  uninterrupt- 
ed time  for  making  up  her  mind.” 

“ Sir,”  said  Miss  Ashton,  “ you  are  generous.” 

“ As  for  that,  madam,”  answered  Bucklaw,  “ I only 
pretend  to  be  a plain  good-humoured  young  fellow,  as  I 
said  before,  who  will  willingly  make  you  happy  if  you 
will  permit  him,  and  show  him  how  to  do  so.” 


THE  BRIDE  OF  IAMMERMOOR. 


311 


Having  said  this,  he  saluted  her  with  more  emotion 
than  was  consistent  with  his  usual  train  of  feeling,  and 
took  his  leave  ; Lady  Ashton,  as  she  accompanied  him 
out  of  the  apartment,  assuring  him  that  her  daughter  did 
full  justice  to  the  sincerity  of  his  attachment,  and  request- 
ing him  to  see  Sir  William  before  his  departure,  “ since,”  as 
she  said,  with  a glance  reverting  towards  Lucy,  “ against 
St.  Jude’s  day,  we  must  all  be  ready  to  sign  and  seal” 

“ To  sign  and  seal  !”  echoed  Lucy  in  a muttering  tone, 
as  the  door  of  the  apartment  closed — “ To  sign  and  seal 
— to  do  and  die  !”  and  clasping  her  extenuated  hands 
together,  she  sunk  back  on  the  easy  chair  she  occupied, 
in  a state  resembling  stupor. 

From  this  she  was  shortly  after  awakened  by  the  bois- 
terous entry  of  her  brolher  Henry,  who  clamorously  re- 
minded her  of  a promise  to  give  him  two  yards  of  carna- 
tion ribbon  to  make  knots  to  his  new  garters.  With  the 
most  patient  composure  Lucy  arose,  and  opening  a little 
ivory  cabinet,  sought  out  the  ribbon  the  lad  wanted, 
measured  it  accurately,  cut  it  off  into  proper  lengths,  and 
knotted  it  into  the  fashion  his  boyish  whim  required. 

“ Dinna  shut  the  cabinet  yet,”  said  Henry,  “ for  I must 
have  some  of  your  silver-wire  to  fasten  the  bells  to  my 
hawk’s  jessies,  and  yet  the  new  falcon’s  not  worth  them 
neither  ; for  do  you  know,  after  all  the  plague  we  had  to  get 
her  from  an  eyry,  all  the  way  at  Posso,  in  Mannor  Water, 
she’s  going  to  prove,  after  all,  nothing  better  than  a 
rifler — she  just  wets  her  singles  in  the  blood  of  the  par- 
tridge, and  then  breaks  away,  and  lets  her  fly  ; and  what 
good  can  the  poor  bird  do  after  that,  you  know,  except 
pine  and  die  in  the  first  heather-cow  or  whin-bush  she 
can  crawl  into  *?” 

“ Right,  Henry — right,  very  right,”  said  Lucy,  mourn- 
fully, holding  the  boy  fast  by  the  hand,  after  she  had 
given  him  the  wire  that  he  wanted  ; “ but  there  are  more 
riflers  in  the  world  than  your  falcon,  and  more  wounded 
birds  that  seek  but  to  die  in  quiet,  that  can  find  neither 
brake  nor  whin-bush  to  hide  their  heads  in.” 


312 


TALES  OE  MY  LANDLORD. 


“ Ah  !”  that’s  some  speech  out  of  your  romances,” 
said  the  boy  ; “ and  Sholto  says  they  have  turned  your 
head  ; but  I hear  Norman  whistling  to  the  hawk — I must 
go  fasten  on  the  jesses.” 

And  he  scampered  awTay  with  the  thoughtless  gaiety  of 
boyhood,  leaving  his  sister  to  the  bitterness  of  her  own 
reflections. 

“ It  is  decreed,”  she  said,  “ that  every  living  crea- 
ture, even  those  who  owe  me  most  kindness,  are  to  shun 
me,  and  leave  me  to  those  by  whom  I am  beset.  It  is 
just  it  should  be  thus — alone  and  uncounselled,  I involv- 
ed myself  in  these  perils — alone  and  uncounselled,  I must 
extricate  myself  or  die.” 


END  OF  VOLUME  I. 


